Symphony of Change
by lostladyknight
Summary: AU set post Living Doll. Sara's relationship with Grissom changes forever when a big secret is revealed--but is that all that changes? Meanwhile Warrick figures out what he wants and does something about it. Warrick/Catherine, GSR, SaraOC, and Sara/Nick
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **

**New story freshly made for your viewing pleasure. This time I have teamed up with the wonderfully talented and wonderfully wonderful Bauerfreak. We're both fairly certain that you're all going to enjoy this one, and we certainly hope that you're hooked from the very first sentence. **

**PARINGS:**

**For right now the story is ship-less and no fun but as you all know I'm hardcore for my OTP (one true paring) and you can rest assured that she's enough of a shipper that we couldn't move forward without plans to have our OTP's end up in bed together. So stay tuned!**

**HISTORY: **

**For right now all you need to know is that the first chapter of the fic is set somewhere around September 27th, the day the world comes to an end. Well, the day the world might come to an end. Though we don't have a definitive time chosen so don't fret. Everything else you may be wondering about will be exposed in due time. **

**RATING:**

**Currently rated "T" but will be changed to an "M" by the time the stroy has run its course. So anyone who's looking for a good "M" hang out around here, and anyone who's not, well you're safe for a while so don't go just yet. **

** A/N 2 **

**Enjoy it, I usually use this space to beg for reviews like a patsy or as my friend likes to call it 'ninny' but I'm just asking you to enjoy it and if you should happen to feel like reviewing, then by all means do so. The most important thing for me as a writer is that the readers enjoy it, that's all. Thanks for stopping by.**

**_Symphony of Change_ **

**By: Bauerfreak and LostLadyKnight**

I've spent the last two hours staring at the quarter inch think line of paled skin that wraps itself in a complete circle around my left ring finger. The discoloration in my skin acts as a shining reminder of all of the deformities I have in my life. The tan line is a slowly fading reminder of the two years I wore a gold band on that finger, a glittering symbol of the lies that perpetuated my life. The only distraction I find from dwelling on my failed marriage, wounded heart, and broken spirit are the one hundred and four black and red cards and the multitude of green, red, blue and various other colors of casino chips that I share at this table with two strangers and a dealer who, over the last few days, I've come to learn is referred to as 'Slim.' I allow my eyes to break the trance they've formed with that particular part of my anatomy long enough to study the two cards I have before me on the table, pound back another shot of tequila, and gesture to the dealer I'd like a hit. I'm unsure which I should feel worse about in my life, the fact I married a woman I couldn't love, or the gambling habit I'd almost defeated, almost.

A little more thought and the continued careful study of the place of absence on my finger leads me to a conclusion I can live with for now. Though many people have been hurt as the result of my gambling, one I'll never forgive myself for, I feel no shame in the fact that I've returned to one of the former Braun casinos in search of a rush, a not-so-cheap thrill. No, all of my shame lies in the knowledge that I rushed myself into a marriage with a woman I didn't love and doomed both of us into a life that would, best case scenario, end with us being older, on the verge of leaving our prime, bitter, and divorced.'Welcome to hell' I think to myself as I pound back another shot of tequila and push the remainder of my chips into the center of the felt table. A last ditch attempt to save the remaining spoils of my paycheck. Turned up in front of me I see a queen of diamonds and I secretly peek beneath it where I find burrowed the five of clubs, after consideration of the dealer's six of spades showing I feel confident in gesturing for a hit when my turn comes around. The seven of clubs, naturally, twenty-two points and bust. One more shot pours its way down the back of my throat as I stand and begin to navigate my way out of the casino, following close behind me is a private demon telling me that there is something horribly wrong with my life, that something is missing.

Despite all my angst, the person my mind keeps settling on has been a secret object of my desire for years...Catherine. Cath. She's been there with me through the ups and down, unknowingly forming a bond between the two of us over the years that I am constantly wondering whether it could turn into something more. Friends turned into something more all the time, but it never seemed to be a possibility with the two of us. She's been my coworker, my boss, since I've known her. When I'm drunk is when I really believe that something more could happen between us. After wallowing in my own self pity for what I assume is only about half an hour longer, I get it into my slightly inebriated mind that it would be a good idea to go visit Catherine.

Being a CSI, I am well aware that even an arrest will get me fired from my job, so I smartly call a cab, which promptly shows up at the front of the casino minutes later. In this town, they've got cabs all over the place for this very reason. I stumble in, my head still spinning from the shots I've taken in a too short period of time, and give the cabbie Cath's address. I check my watch and notice it is almost one in the morning. The middle of the day for us night-shift CSI's, but her daughter Lindsey might be sleeping.

Catherine's off tonight. Both of us are. After you've worked so many hours without taking time off in a given month, they make you take two nights to yourself. Catherine and I both worked our max, probably because we didn't have anything else waiting for us. Ever since we stopped being friends our social lives have both plummeted into this pit of nothingness. I would, with anyone else, be worried that I would be an unwelcome obtrusion at this hour, however if I know Catherine, and she hasn't changed that much in the past two years, I know this isn't so. She'll be up, even when she's off she can't sleep at one in the morning. She'll be sitting behind the screen of her computer in the office at the back of her house. She's probably wearing those gray sweat pants and some skimpy white t-shirt, and those thick black framed glasses that look so sexy on her when her hair is straightened.

Her porch light is on, and always is, because Cath is always prepared for anything that could happen. As I get out of the cab and pay, I wonder just how happy she'll be to see me. Maybe she'll even be pissed that I showed up on her front porch, but in all my drunkenness, I don't care. Slowly, I make a special effort to go around the lawn, stepping instead on her driveway and sidewalk, so as not to disturb her perfectly manicured grass. My specially trained ears, however, notice a curious sound as I approach the porch. I stop in my tracks, and look to my left, down the side of Cath's house, and I hear it distinctly now. A rustling of the bushes. Assuming I have a perpetrator on my hands, I reach for my gun, but realize I don't have it with me, of course. I'm not on shift. Instead, I holler loudly, "Hey!" and whistle at whoever is over there. I hear some frightened whispering, one I identify as a male, and the other a female. "Come out of there!" I tell them.

I'm about to plunge myself into the bushes and grab the people within them when I see a streak of black hair light out like a man on fire. After a moment's hesitation I decided to turn my attention to his abandoned friend, in the bushes. I reach in quickly and remove a squirming teen, but not just any squirming teen - the blonde hair and blue eyes belong to Lindsey. I quickly divert my eyes as I realize that she's wearing a skewed bra but no shirt, and allow her to cover herself before either of us speaks.

"Lindsey, what the hell?" I ask.

"I could ask you the same thing War-rick" she hasn't called me Warrick in years, I've always been 'Rick or Uncle 'Rick.

"Your mom's gonna be livid when she sees what you've been out here doing" I start to tell her but she cuts me off before I can continue.

"What makes you think she's not going to be livid to see you? You're drunk, and she hates you."

I sigh heavily, somehow not surprised that Lindsey knows so much about her mother's social life, or lack thereof. Lindsey and I have been buds since she was a little girl. I suspect she knows I have a thing for her mother, but her insightfulness frightens me a little at this moment. Realizing she's trying to change the subject from the fact she was fooling around with what looked like a much older guy in the middle of the night without her mother's permission, I got back on her. "Where's your shirt?" I ask her, knowing this wasn't going to look good if Cath answered the door to this. Lindsey rolls those blue eyes and turns around to the bush, and retrieves a skimpy blue tank top that doesn't seem to cover her up any better when she turns around with it on. "Thanks for ruining my evening." She spats under her breath, maneuvering past me towards the door.

Lindsey pushes into the front door, which for only a split second, reveals a fairly well lit house. I lean forward to try to follow her through the door when it slams in my face and I all I hear is the muffled sound of "Mom, someone left a pile of trash on our front steps again." Apparently she didn't even try to hide the fact that at fifteen, she was coming home in the middle of the night. I guess she knows that my next step will be to tell her mother exactly what had gone down in the yard. She decided not to try to sneak in, but to blatantly announce herself, for the pleasure of a jab in my direction. I feel wounded. There was a time when she worshipped me. Now all I am to her is the drunken coworker of her mother, someone they both used to trust, and now apparently don't.

From on the porch, I hear the muffled sound of Catherine, sounding confused on somewhat irate. I wonder if I should leave to give them some privacy, since obviously Cath wants to tear her to shreds, but I decide against it for Lindsey's sake, hoping that one day she'll understand why it's not a good idea to make out with guys in bushes. I ring the doorbell, and after some delay, an angry looking Catherine answers the door.

"Warrick?" She says my name with a certain amount of disgust. I raise my eyebrows a little in apology, knowing this didn't look that great, showing up on her doorstep at one a.m. Before I have a chance to respond, she turns back to her wayward daughter, who is currently brushing out some of the tangles in her blonde hair, with a slight tinge of her mother's reddish color. "Did Warrick have to bring you home?" She questions her fifteen year old harshly.

I can see Lindsey's angry face twisting into a retort that can only get her into more trouble, so before she has the chance to say 'why don't you ask him' I lean forward and, bailing the kid out of a lot of trouble, say "No, no, Cath it was nothing like that."

"It wasn't?" Catherine asks me, her voice betraying her anger, confusion, and relief in one breath.

"No. Lindsey was, uhh..." I can't decide if I should lie for the girl and save face in her eyes, or if I should tell Catherine the truth and quell the anger I can tell she's felling towards me. If I dime the kid out, Catherine will be so angry with her she won't have the energy to maintain the rage towards me that she's trying to hide.

I decide that even though Lindsey will probably hate me, her mother needs to know what she'd been up to. Since I like the kid, I decide to cover up some of the truth, at least the part about her having her shirt off. I have to earn at least some brownie points with the teenager, even though with her comments about me being trash, perhaps she doesn't deserve it. She was a teenager - not exactly the most apologetic time in anyone's life. Lindsey's eyes are tearing into me, silently begging me not to tell on her, but a look at her, conveying this was needed; it was for her own good, though of course she wouldn't understand.

"She was outside, with some guy kissing" I blurt out. "I was just coming to see you, and..."

I'm cut off by Catherine's angry voice, directed at Lindsey. "Chad?! Are you sneaking around with Chad again, young lady?"

I mentally cringe as I see Lindsey prepare to make teenager mistake number one. Yelling back at your mother is never a good way to get yourself out of trouble, and I'd pretty much just given her a 'get out of jail free card.'

"Well, I wouldn't have to sneak around with him, Mom, if you'd just let me date whoever I want" the kid retorted.

I can tell this isn't a fresh problem between the mother and daughter, who had been through so much together over the years, and not one that could be easily and peacefully resolved. For some, all the drama brought them closer together, but with Lindsey, it seemed to cause her to resent her mother. Catherine is about to answer her back, when she remembers that I am standing there.

"We'll talk about this later." Cath informs her, causing the teen to roll her eyes. "Go to your room and get to bed. You've got school tomorrow." Lindsey glares at her mother, then at me, and promptly begins to climb the stairs to her bedroom, immaturely stomping every step up.

We regard each other for a few moments, neither really speaking. I can tell that the anger, hurt, and whatever that other emotion is isn't all because of Lindsey. I'm starting to feel a great deal of regret in coming here. All I've done is brought Catherine grief. I step inside and close the door behind me despite my urge to walk back out the door and go running into the night like, Chad was it? Like Chad himself had. I know that the two of us can't go any longer without speaking so I finally settle on a befuttled apology.

"I'm, uh, sorry I came like this, and caused so much trouble."

Catherine's chest puffs out, and then she lets out a loud, dramatic sigh as she turns and starts walking towards the cream-colored couches in her living room. She runs those long, delicate fingers through her light red hair, evidence of her stress, which I'm still guessing is a combination of Lindsey's behavior and my presence.

"No need to apologize," She lies, and I follow her, assuming she doesn't mind if I stay for at least a few minutes, since she hasn't kicked me out the front door. "I guess it was good timing that you found Lindsey." She picks up the half-filled wine bottle sitting on her coffee table and pours herself another quarter-filled glass. "Lately, I haven't been able to keep track of her. I assumed she went to bed hours ago."

"You know how kids are when they start dating someone new" I say, trying to console Catherine a little bit. "They think they're the only person in the world that matters."

Catherine doesn't speak. She just looks me in the eyes for a few moments, holding my gaze. I can tell she's trying to size up the situation, trying to decide if she really wants me here at all. I have hope though, because I can see her face soften as she looks at me, and I can see her eyes lighten. For yet another time in my life I'm thankful that she could never stay angry with me for very long. For a moment longer she looks at me, and then as though she decided to forget her rebelling teen, she asks "So, why'd you come here anyway?" To my delight her words were simply curious and didn't hide any disdain or annoyance, and to my pleasure she doesn't look away after she's done speaking.

My original plan of coming over here seems so childish and juvenile now. I momentarily lose my train of thought, getting caught in the midst of her gaze, the way her make up-free face makes her look even more beautiful, her tank top hugging her in all the right places. Why had I thought it was a good idea to come here? What did I hope to achieve? To tell her I was head over heels in love with her, and expect her to say the same to me; that all the dramatics and angst we'd gone through was just a bad dream, and we were set to live the rest of our lives together? Yeah, that sounded idiotic, now that I had the chance to sober up just a little bit.

"Um..uh.." I stumble, scratching above my eyebrow nervously, "I was just thinking about you." I realize I sound like a middle schooler, crushing on the head cheerleader.

I feel my face start to redden when her eyebrows and face contort in surprise. Now, I want to crawl underneath her couch and hide for the next year, hoping she'll forget that idiotic line of mine. I feel the need mounting inside of me to apologize, but she beats me to it.

"Really? And just how often do you think about me?" By the look on her face, I can tell this is slightly entertaining to her. It's not fair the way guys and girls interact. Guys make themselves out to be idiots for the amusement of their female counterparts. I'm still a little drunk, or at least that's what I'm telling myself, or else I doubt I would have had the courage to say the words that next came out of my mouth.

"Maybe a little more often than I should."

She doesn't speak. She's telling me, by not saying anything, that she wants me to continue on. I am a little bemused at the idea that women, even without saying anything, always maintain the control in situations where men could be branding themselves with mortal embarrassment. I search her eyes for the inspiration to know what the right thing to say next would be, but all I find is the desire to kiss her. I divert my attention to her hair, still on a quest for the right words, but simply find the need to be lost in it. Then, for some odd reason, I feel that a glance to her chest would show me the right path, but it doesn't. All I find there is the exhilaration of wondering what it would be like to caress her breasts. Finally, in an attempt to dig myself out of the hole I put myself in, I divert my attention to my own flesh, to the pale band of skin that had me so enraptured earlier this evening. It's here that I found my motivation to speak.

"I guess... I think about the way things used to be. I think about what we used to be, and I think about how much I miss it. I think about how much I hate that even though neither of us have gone anywhere, it feels like there's a thousand miles between us."

Catherine's eyes have been on me the entire time, something I haven't had the courage to mirror myself. I look away, searching on the floor for...I don't know what, then I finally venture a glance at her face. Her expression is regretful - but of what I'm not sure. Regretful of the same things I am? That I let her get away one too many times, and that I fear I may be too late? Or regretful that I came over tonight in the first place? Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, in attempt to form some sort of polite response. I'm sure she's going to put me down, but her answer gives me a small inkling of hope.

"Warrick, um. I'm not sure what to say other than...I miss things too, but I'm not sure if we can ever get back to that place we were. Too much has happened."

"I know that." I do, I've always known it. As a matter of a fact I've known that we would never have what we did before the moment she noticed the ring on my finger, so long ago. I should have told her, or talked to her about it. I should have at least involved her in some way, it's not like I thought she wouldn't care, or want to be there for me.

"I guess I didn't come here to change it all, but to say that I'm sorry. Sorry for all of the things I said or didn't say, and for letting this happen."

"Warrick..." she tries to speak to me, but can't find the words.

It would be polite, if two decent people who hadn't hurt one another were standing here instead of us, for Catherine to say it was alright, that it wasn't my fault, but I know she can't find it in her to say that. She shouldn't have to, because I'm the one that's screwed things up between us, with all that Tina confusion. I can tell she doesn't want to hurt me by telling me the blatant truth - that I'd hurt her worse than any other man, more than Eddie even.

"Cath," I stop her, my voice low. "It's okay. I shouldn't have come." I clear my throat and turn around, heading for the door, hoping that she'll stop me and I don't know what. What do I expect? For her to run after me and kiss me like they do in the movies?

"Warrick." She calls, her voice tinged in tiredness. I turn as I reach the door, and she comes around the side of the couch. I wait for her to continue, and she stands right in front of me. "Maybe we should talk about this some other time. When you're not...um..." 'Drunk' I mentally add for her.

"Goodnight" I tell her. There is so much more I have to say, but this feels like the right thing to say. I'm elated, slightly, at the idea that she didn't hit me in the face for saying what I did. Or that she didn't tell me I was all to blame, even though we both know it's true if she'd have said it I would have been crushed. Maybe now that it's all out in the open our friendship can start to heal. Once the door is closed behind me I begin walking up her road, and remove my cell phone to call a cab.

As I trudge along after I've made the call, I can't help but feel there's a load off my chest, but some of it is still there. It had been a simple apology, and my grandmother had always told me that actions speak louder than words. Now that I'd promised change and expressed interest in patching things up, I have to prove it to Cath. Prove that she means the world to me, and that I care for Lindsey too. Tomorrow, when all the alcohol clears my head, maybe I'll think up a master plan about how to get Cath back into my life permanently, even if it is just friendship. With all the crap I've pulled, I might just have to live without the possibility of ever being romantically involved with the beautiful, amazing woman I had wronged. As the cab pulls up, I promise myself, and Catherine, tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**1A/N: Thanks so much for the great reviews! We are having lots of fun writing this. This chapter will focus on Sara. It is GSR right now, but will eventually turn to Snickers, so be patient Nick lovers! Thanks for reading, and please review.**

**-Bauerfreak and LostLadyKnight**

I feel very fragile, which is not something I like to admit to on a regular basis, as I lay here in this uncomfortable hospital bed, an IV in my arms, and numerous expensive medical machines surrounding me, recording my every heartbeat and any problem with an annoying beep. This has in turn stopped me from getting any resuscitative amount of sleep, because every time something even minute goes wrong, a nurse rushes in to check my vitals. As a result of this lack of sleep, I have developed a rather hideous pair of bags under my eyes, which seems to go well with my overly pale skin (even by my standards), and tired, dull complexion, which only further adds to my new look of resident weakling. I pride myself on my strength, my diligence, my firm refusal to give up, so this - being trapped in a twin-sized bed 24 hours a day - is sheer torture. I watch the hours tick by, nurses and doctors and coworkers stream in and out, and it's all a blur to me. After over a week of consciously being here, I'm still waiting to be snapped out of this nightmare, and then I remember what happened to me.

I don't remember all of it. I can't. Just certain images burned into my mind. First I'm standing next to my car and someone approaches me then the world goes black. Then I have a freeze frame where my chest feels like it's being crushed and all I can see around me is rain and mud. Another flash and I figure out that I'm under a car. My final memory before the hospital involves me being a least a hundred feet from the car and finally awakening to see Grissom standing over me, the sun casting a celestial glow about him making him look like both a hero and an angel. I don't remember how I got that far away from the car. People keep asking me and it's frustrating, because I just can't remember.

They've told me that I've been here for three months and though I've been drifting in and out of consciousness things have only began to stick in the past week or so. It's a wretched thing, being in the hospital and even though I couldn't escape if I wanted to I still feel a pang of guilt clawing at the back of my mind. There are people out there that don't know where I am, and are probably beginning to wonder if I've stopped caring for them all together. Though the tension causes pain in the IV I've got coming out of the back of my hand, I cross my fingers and silently will them to remember that I love them.

I've been unsuccessfully trying to nap for the past hour or so. I've found that if I'm pretending I'm sleeping, it stops people, especially Grissom, from fussing over me so much. I cannot stand to be made a big deal over. Yes, I'm injured, and yes I've been through an ordeal, but that doesn't mean I'm broken. And Grissom - all the ways I love that man - does not seem to know what to do with himself. I can tell he's grateful that I'm okay, and that he cares for me deeply. But unfortunately, his presence here over the last week has been comforting, but also somewhat suffocating. He's afraid to leave my side, thinking that if he turns his attention away for one second, that I'll slip into a massive coma or start having seizures. After months here, I am stable in the medical sense, but more confused than I've ever been.

Unfortunately he hasn't left my side in the past four hours, not even to go to the bathroom, and noticed my fingers cross when I made the movement. I slam my eyes closed forcefully begging him to think that he was just seeing things, and that I'm still asleep. It doesn't work though because I hear his gentle, sweet, voice ask me if I'm awake. I'm torn. I love the blasted man dearly but he's so infuriating. I'm not a child nor a china doll and I'd like to be treated as though I'm not going to break. I know that I'll crush him if he thinks I'm pretending he's not beside me so I give him a faint 'morning' in reply even though I'm unaware if it's morning, noon, or night.

My eyes flutter open to the familiar sight of his caring face. I should be thankful that I have a boyfriend so in love with me, that he spends every single hour of his time off of work here at the hospital with me, nursing me back to health. Only, I'm not. He's reassuring, but he's not helping. I feel like a child in elementary school, with a teacher who's always hovering over my shoulder, checking my work. It's not like it's the worst thing in the world, but to me, it's torture. I know I must tolerate him a while longer. Hopefully, when I'm released from the hospital in a few days, he will back off a little and actually let me lift a finger to do something for myself. Until now, I am left trying to stomach hovering Grissom, who has now walked to the edge of my bed.

"Did you sleep well?" He whispers, as if he's afraid he'll burst my eardrums. I nod, a total lie, of course, but I don't want to worry him any more than I have. Grissom doesn't need all the added stress of me being in the condition I'm in. I feel like a burden to him, not his girlfriend.

"Have you slept?" I know he hasn't and by the guilty look on his face my suspicions are confirmed and for once in my life I'm happy he doesn't take care of himself.

"Go home and get some sleep, walk Bruno, and for the love of Pete feed both of you" I order him out of my room, with two ambitions in mind. I do want him to care for himself and Bruno, but I also want a stolen moment by myself.

Grissom opens his mouth to protest but I raise my fingers first to my lips and then to his before saying "I'm going to be right here when you get back, go."

On Grissom's way out I hear him ask someone what they're doing, and I realize that someone's trying to come into my room. A few moments later I hear a voice I never thought I'd hear here trying to calm my lover down. I'm overwhelmed with a combination of resounding joy that he's here and anguish that he's meeting Grissom on these terms. Well, he knows Grissom. We took an entomology lecture under him together, but it has been more than a decade. I listen to them bicker for a little while.

"Just who do you think you are? You can't just waltz in to someone's room." Grissom obviously thinks he's with the press. They've been bothering me a lot in the past few months and probably will continue to do so for a long while.

"I'm not just anybody, now let me go in and see her." I hear concern in his manly voice. In a voice I know so well that I don't have to see a face to know it's him.

"I'm Sara's emergency contact and nobody gets admittance without going through me." It's kind of sexy, or it would be if he wasn't being an ass, the way he's fighting for me.

"Look Mr. Grissom, I don't care, I'm going to see her right now."

If I know Grissom he's about to whirlwind the poor man with a thousand questions and then call hospital security and have him removed, so I speak up loudly and down the hall, "Oh Alexander just get your ass in here already."

Both men instantly stop their bickering at the sound of my voice, which I find strangely boosting to my ego. I smirk a little, hoping that has done the trick. Grissom is standing in the doorway, and turns his head towards me, shocked that I am speaking to this other man who he thinks is trying to harass me. Shocked, he just stands there looking at me in confusion, and this allows Alexander to step past him and into my room. His face is a combination of so many things, and so reassuring to me - worry, relief, love, annoyance - but mostly love.

"Sara." He calls to me with such adoration in his voice I think I might melt into a pile of goo right there. Moments later, he's crossed the room and enveloped me in kind of a half-hug. I am saddened that he has to see me like this. I know my hair is probably greasy, I smell, and I'm probably a tad bit grouchy.

"Hey." I smile through all my confusion. He's holding my hand, the one with the IV in it, his thumb gently stroking my pale skin, just gazing into my eyes, like a former lover should after not hearing from his beau for probably several months.

"Thank God you're okay." He whispers, sensing correctly that Grissom is hovering near, straining to hear what he is saying. "We were so worried about you." He tells me, and I of course believe him. I've been wanting to call him or write a letter to tell him that I'm okay - well, that I've been involved in an 'incident', to put it lightly, and am recovering well at a local hospital. But alas, Grissom hasn't really stepped away long enough for me to be able to call him, sadly, and I still feel incapable of writing.

"Is Ryan here?" I ask him, my throat giving away the dryness I feel in my mouth. He smiles at the mention of the teenage boy.

"He's in the waiting room. I told him to wait until I was sure you were really here and ready for him." I feel like crying in relief that Ryan is here, just down the hall, when both have been miles and miles away in California. Grissom has overheard parts of this, and is growing more confused by the second.

"I hate to barge in, but who is this guy?" He questions me.

"Griss, this is Alexander Fisher. You might not remember him but he was in that lecture course, the one where I met you, with me." I decide to plunge right in and remind him that Alexander was someone he could remember too, if he tried.

"Well I'm sorry, I don't remember you" Grissom says, stepping forward hand offering Alexander his and to shake it. "You and Sara stayed in contact all this time?"

"Gil," I don't call him Gil except for very intimate moments, and he knows that I'm about to tell him something very sensitive I can see his face express worry and fear "Alexander and I have more than just stayed in contact... he's my husband."

Grissom resembled the Big Mouth Bass that hangs above his office door. I can tell he's trying to form some kind of word, but his mind renders him incapable. I know I should have told him about Alexander - that would've been the wise thing to do - but we aren't really what you would call an item anymore. Sure, we were still legally married, but we lived in separate states, and the sex has been sporadic over the years. Well, for some couples, that doesn't exactly make a strong difference between being married or not. For what it was worth, I still love Alexander (and I still love Grissom), but we had kind of agreed to just be friends. Only, I could never bring myself to file the divorce papers.

Grissom needs me to speak. I can tell that he's been rendered dumfounded and just can't seem to get his brain to function enough to find what to say. I'm at a loss too, but Alexander is holding my hand and I'm trying not to lose the man, well the men, that I love.

"We've been married since graduate school, but I've been here, with you, for eight years. Look, I know we have a lot to talk about, and please, don't hate me."

"I don't hate..." He started to assure me that he didn't hate me, but he just can't say the words. I guess I understand, I'd hate me too. I can tell he's wounded, maybe even destroyed by what I just told him and I need to respect that he's got to think it through. To my pleasure he does something that's good for both of us, he gives us time. "I think I'll go home now and let you two catch up a bit. I have some things to think about, and then, Sara, I think we should talk."

"Me too." I tell him, hardly above a whisper. On his way out the door I'm overcome with a feeling of loss and I inaudibly tell him one last thing "I love you."

He offers me a small smile and says he loves me too, but I wonder if it's hard for him to say. I wouldn't have been able to say it if I found out Grissom was married to some lady secretly for years. I sigh as I watch his back turn, and he leaves from our sight. My sadness, however, is quickly masked when I look back up at Alexander, and see his loving, but guilty face.

"I hope I didn't cause any trouble." He apologized, pulling the chair that Grissom had been sitting in up closer to my bed. I shake my head in dismissal.

"My fault." I tell him. Alexander has known about Grissom, so at least I don't have double awkwardness to deal with. Hopefully, that doesn't make us bad people, but it sure feels like it. "I wanted to call and write, but I couldn't find..." I'm cut off by his words.

"It's okay, baby." He assures me, stroking my hand again. "We're here now." Alexander whispers, looking deep into my eyes. I feel blessed, but cursed, to have two men in my life that love me and care about me so much. Love can be an amazing thing when it's mutual, but sadly, with two amazing men to pick from, I have never truly felt like I was in love with either of them. I've had strong feelings for both of them, but I've never pictured myself ending up with either of them.

If someone asked me, I mean truly asked me, who the love of my life was I could answer them, and it wouldn't be that hard. The man that I love more than any other in the world is not Gilbert Grissom, nor is it Alexander Fisher but another. My son, Ryan. It's true when they say that there is no love in the world like the love that a mother has for her child, and though some may be shocked to hear it, I'm no different. I love Alexander, God do I. He's been the best friend I've ever had for years, we've been together through so much and he's never left my side. But we knew when we got married that it wasn't "forever love" and that in time our marriage would crumple and fail. We merely married because we knew that we loved each other in a way that only two best friends ever could. We knew that though the love wasn't that of a passionate affair, it was unbreakable.

Grissom. I've had such a crush on Grissom since I was still just a teen that I don't know how exactly I love him, but I do. I love him, I guess, in a very similar way to the way I love Alexander, except without the certainty that he's going to love me in return for an eternity. Grissom is my dear friend and my comfort zone, and I don't want to give that up. But Ryan - I love him more with every breath I breathe and every beat my heart takes. He's the whole world to me suspended in my life like an angel. I would give up anything, everything, for my son without thinking twice. He's my heart and my life. But no matter how much I love him, there is a piece of my heart still searching for something. Searching for, as I put it a moment ago, my "forever love."

I must be rather obvious when I'm thinking about my son, because the next thing I register is Alexander chuckling at me and shaking his head in amusement.

"Thinking about Ryan?" He asks me knowingly. I don't know how I've managed to go on living without seeing Ryan for all these months. Well, it helped that I wasn't really aware of my own body for a while, I guess. I smile and nod at Alexander's question, feeling rather maternal that I'm that obvious thinking about my son. I never thought I'd be a good mother, but when I'm around Ryan, all that floats away. I love him dearly, and that's all there is to it.

"Can I see him?" I request, and can't believe I'm slightly afraid that he'll say no. I'm sure Ryan's been through a lot these past months, wondering what's going on with me. For a time, I'm sure they both wondered if I was still alive. Alexander nods at my request and kisses my cheek, a reminder of our enduring friendship. He winks at me when he rises, and then walks towards and out of the door. I look down and smooth out a wrinkle in my bed sheet, feeling more nervous now than I believe I have ever been. I wonder if Ryan is upset with me, for not calling or writing, and that in all his teenage angst he wonders now why he's lived all his life with his father, and never with me. My fears are soon dismissed, however, when I saw that tall, dark handsome son of mine standing in the doorway, his face lit up with joy like a five year old being told he gets to go to Chuck E. Cheese.

"Look at you." I say to him as he wanders in a little more closely. I haven't seen him since last Christmas and the fourteen year old must have shot up a whole foot since then. He lets his long hair flop into his face a bit as he smiles at me brightly, but he doesn't come too close. I can tell, by the way he sat in the chair beside me rather slowly that he's afraid to touch me. "Get your butt over here and give me a hug right now" I order him, with a smile back to Alexander who's standing in the door way grinning at me.

Ryan stands over me and hugs me meekly but I won't let him get away with it. I pull him tightly and hug with all the strength I can muster, while ignoring the pain I just put myself in I kiss his forehead and finally let him escape. "I've missed you so much, Rye."

He smiles at me and sits back down, but stares me in the face for a few moments before I see his usually deep brown eyes start to brighten into that shade of hazel green they become when he's upset by something. "Mom, you're really okay? Really?"

"Yeah honey, I'm fine." I try to assure him, but also his father. I reach out and tousle that dirty brown hair of his, which he's grown out to that length he knows I absolutely love on him.

"I've been through an ordeal, but I've been well taken care of." I tell him, which is true. He doesn't need to know about the nightmares I've been having, and the horrible flashbacks. Physically, I am fine, and that is all my teenage son needs to know. He nods in understanding, and looks quite relieves.

"I see you grew your hair out again. I love it." I smile and ruffle his hair even more. He smirks that smirk he only saves for me that I've missed so much - that look that says, 'Mom, you're crazy, but I love you'.

"He needs a haircut." His father smiles from the end of my bed, looking over at our son jestfully.

"I got one last week, Dad." My son smartly quips."

We talk for a while, my husband, our son and I. Ryan fills me in on all the details of his life including the fact that he got into a private high school in our area for the start of his freshman year. I tell him I'm proud, and I am. Alexander tells me about the firm and how he's the third most senior practitioner now. Before long he'll be made partner and given that illustrious pay increase that will separate our little family from the upper middle class.

About an hour into our visit Warrick came to see me, he didn't stay long, and since Ryan was in the restroom and Alexander was getting some more coffee I didn't have the opportunity to introduce

them. Warrick told me that he came by to see how I was today, and gave me a small white teddy bear. He said he was feeling pretty horrible that he wasn't by in the couple of days prior and that he'd make it up to make it up to me somehow when I was back on my feet. Warrick and I have grown to be pretty good friends over the years and from time to time spend evenings together at the movies. Perhaps he'll pay for my ticket next feature we see. I took the time to assure him that everything was alright, and didn't fail to notice the wedding band was absent from his finger.

Apparently, or so he told me, the breakdown of his marriage was fairly old news and I was the last to know. I believe him because the tan line from his ring looked fairly well faded, but still bright enough to call attention to the fact that something was missing. After a short chat, only about five minutes long, he bade me farewell and returned to whatever had him so distracted and absent seeming.

For the next hour or so, I just enjoy the company of Alexander and Ryan there with me. There's so much for us to catch up on after being apart and without communication for so long. Soon, Grissom wanders back in, visibly distraught over the fact that guy was still here, and there was now a teenage boy with him now. He tried his best to hide his displeasure, but it was obvious to everyone in the room Grissom wanted them to leave. After a few last words, Alexander stands up and walks over to me.

"Well, Ryan and I are gonna go get a bite to eat." He informs me, and I notice his distinct lack of physical touch. Grissom is staring a hole into the back of his head, and I'm sure he feels it. Griss wants him OUT. I nod, and we exchange our goodbyes. He kisses my forehead and I glance at Grissom as he's doing so. The look on Gil's face is distraught, and perhaps a little hurt. I don't want to hurt either of these men in my life, and know it's past the time I should have figured my feelings out for them.

I'm half tempted to throw a pillow at Grissom for making my family leave me, but I know that he's justified in wanting some time alone with me, and honestly I'd like to be alone with him too. I almost missed him while he was gone. I search my brain for the right thing to say and then finally settle with "How's Bruno?" Small talk seems like the safest avenue, for the moment.

"He's fine. He ate like I've never fed him before in his life, and I think he's tired of being cooped up like that, but I don't blame him." He tells me, only humoring me because he knows that deep down I love the dog almost as much as I love him.

"Aren't we all?" I ask, saying how tired I am of being cooped up as well. I make a mental note to take Bruno out for a good, long, run when I'm home and finally able to escape the over protectiveness of the people that love me.

Grissom allows his face to shift from mild mannered to troubled and he asks a question I've seen on his mind since he arrived. "That kid, was he your son?"

I nod. It's all I can say. I don't know how fundamentally this is going to change the musing and result he came upon while he was at home with our dog. I can't be sure how he's going to react so I just lay he idly hoping he'll speak sooner rather than later, so I don't go mad from the suspense.

I can't exactly blame him for asking the next question out of his mouth. In the last couple hours, I've suddenly become this person he never knew, with a life he never knew existed.

"And when were you planning on telling me about this?" His eyebrows raise, and suddenly I feel like a child being interrogated by a disappointed parent. Grissom has known me for over ten years now, and somehow I've been able to hide the fact that I'm a mother. I don't know why I've been so diligent about hiding it from people. I adore Ryan, but it's just not something I readily share, because I get the questions about if he lives with me, and I have to answer that no he doesn't, and then I get those looks - like I'm a bad mother, or don't love my son enough because I can bear to have him live away from me.

Well, I can't bear it. It kills me to have Ryan away from me, and this situation is just so hard to explain, so I just avoid it. But now, as Grissom stares back at me with those impossibly hurt eyes, it has come back to bite me in the butt. I feel like I would've rather endured years of those questions and looks, to avoid the heartbreaking look on Grissom's face right now.

"I can't explain why I didn't tell you. I guess I was just afraid you'd leave me." This is the most honest answer I can think of right now, and I'm sick of lying to him. "I was twenty-two when I met you and instantly smitten. I guess I figured telling you that I was married and had an infant son would ruin my chances. Then, though we never lost contact for long, we weren't exactly best friends and personal issues didn't come up. When you asked me to stay out here in Vegas with you, I sat down with Alexander and we talked about it for a long time and decided that I had to do what was best for me, and that was take every chance I had to be with you. I never told you because I just couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

"So you blame me?" He asks rather scornfully.

"No, I don't blame you. When I came here, it was only going to be for the Holly Gribbs case, and then it turned into the fall, then the year, then…" I make a motion with my hand, feeling I didn't need to continue. "Eventually, I had to make a choice that I've lived with every day for eight years, and that I was happy with because I had you.. You're not to blame, I'm the only one who owns that, but it was worth it."

I let out a breath, feeling I needed to continue still. "I never intended for my marriage to Alexander to fall apart, but I never really expected it to last this long." I go on. "And Ryan - I knew he was in good hands with Alexander, and I get to see him on holidays. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but that's just the way things are." I huff and cross my arms, almost pissed with Grissom for making me spill all this information to him. But I remind myself this is all my fault. I brought this upon myself, and there's no one to blame but me. Grissom seems at a loss for words.

"If I had known about all this, things would have been..."

"Different." I finish for him. "I know. But you didn't know, and this is how things are."

"So, where does that leave us?" He asks, taking up the seat next to me. I take it as a good sign that he's sitting here and obviously willing to work things out.

I stop and regard the situation for a moment and at a midpoint through my introspection I realize that I've had a really long day and a lot of things happening to me, and that I'm exhausted. Though I'm sorely tempted to think of my own good health and finish this conversation quickly, I decide that Grissom deserves the last drop of my energy. "I'd like it to leave us where we were. We have a good thing, I don't want to mess it up."

I breathe out a long, drawn-out sigh, and close my eyes, tired from all the emotions of the day. I've lived the last year of my life taking it for granted that Grissom will always be there, though I have recently found him slightly annoying. And now, with this mess I've caused, I wouldn't be surprised if Grissom wants to cut things off with me for good.

"Well, it might be too late." He tells me, causing my heart to drop. My eyes shoot up, looking at his normally expressionless face, and find deep hurt there. He's hurt that I've basically lied to him all these years about so many things. I've foolishly told myself over the years that I wasn't really lying to him - I just wasn't telling him the whole truth. I should've known better - I've been preaching that to Ryan for years, that a half-truth is really a lie.

I'm half tempted to beg him to take it back and to reconsider. I think I'd grab him by the face and hold his cheeks in my hands, but I'm just too tired. I gaze into his gray eyes for a few moments and when I can tell he's about to speak again, about to end it, a nurse walks in. She looks at me and concern spreads on her face, obviously I'm not up to having a visitor anymore. She knows he's been by my side for months but senses it's time for him to go.

"Sir, I'm sorry but it's time for Ms. Sidle to get some rest now." I silently make a note to hug the woman when I get the chance. She just rescued me when I most needed a rescuer.

Grissom leaves me and before I've time to watch him walk down the hall and out of my sight I'm overcome with sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Okay chapter three ready to go! We're sorry this one took so long, but it's a long one. It took a lot of time to write, and to edit. This is one of my (llk's) favorite fan fiction chapters that I've worked on in a great while. **

**Thanks for reading. We're working on the next chapter now, so soon it'll be up. Anyway, since this is a long one we'll just let you get to reading. **

**Since this is chapter three, it'll be a good time to review and let us know what you think about the direction the story is taking. Thanks.**

**-Bauerfreak and LostLadyKnight**

Symphony of Change

Chapter 3.

I'm reclined in one of the chairs in the break room, a habit I picked up from Greg a few years ago, waiting for Grissom to walk in and assign us to our tasks for the evening. I hope that I have a fairly straight forward case tonight because the dozen or so shots I had last night are still working their magic on me. Well I'm not drunk, but I have a headache to boot. I can't let myself forget the two glasses of water before bed anymore, or else man, I'm out of it all day. I'm sitting here, in the dark, flipping through a magazine that the person before me left, something about surf boards and other beach bum gear. Sara has a subscription to the same magazine, but I know it can't be hers. She hasn't been here in months. I turn the page and a bright orange and yellow add displaying the magic of some sort of board wax reminds me that normal people don't read with the lights off, and if I don't get up and flip that switch, the next person in here is going to know I have a hangover.

I'm overly thinking about my actions and the way I'm presenting myself this evening, because I know it is easily apparent that I'm hung over. If Grissom knew, he'd have one of his hissy fits, and make me go home for the evening. Work, however, is about my only outlet at the moment, besides drinking and gambling of course, so I find it vital that I be able to work this evening, even if it may be tougher than usual. Nick moseys in a few moments later, nursing most likely a strong cup of coffee, and we make eye contact. Immediately, I can tell he knows I am hung over, and that really puts a damper on my chances with Grissom. I know Nick's gonna bust my chops on this one - how could he not? Such an easy target such as myself, waiting for the Advil to kick in, and fighting the strong urge to kneel at the porcelain throne for a while.

"Rough night?" He asks me simply as he sets his Styrofoam cup down with a light plunk on the break room table. He has that look, like he's just gonna eat me alive all day long about this.

If I hadn't known Nick for years... scratch that, if Nick hadn't known me for years I would attempt to lie to him and tell him that I just have a headache from sleeping on the pullout in my old apartment while I get myself situated again. Unfortunately, as I said, Nick has known me for years and wouldn't believe me for a moment. "I may have had a little too much fun."

"By the look of it man, you had one hell of a night!" He says, pretending to be envious. I know that in all truth he wouldn't want to be me right now, nobody would. Nick looks from me to his cup of coffee and back again and then hands it to me. "Man why do I miss all of the good parties? You look like you were with a couple of gorgeous blondes until all hours of the morning."

I have to laugh to myself at the irony. I was with a pair of beautiful ladies last night, but it wasn't all fun and games like Nick's implying. If Nick wasn't such a good friend, I might be tempted to lie to him about my facts. Of course, I'm not about to get into the heart of all my problems here in the break room, with Greg within earshot, a long night ahead of us. I let out a tired and humorless chuckle.

"Trust me, man. It wasn't that kind of night." I make eye contact with him again, and he's the type of bud that can tell just from that I have a problem on my hands, and not one appropriate to talk about at work. He nods and suddenly finds his watch fascinating for a few moments.

"You wanna grab a bite later?" He offers predictably. Nick's the type of friend that will cancel his plans at the drop of a hat if he knows one of his friends is down or in trouble. I appreciate the offer, I tell him, but somehow I feel like talking about it with someone will only further propel me into this abyss of angst and desperate need for the red head that walks into the room moments later. God, does she know how much power she has over me by her mere presence? The way she looks so powerful, walking into the room like she owns it in those black high heels, striped pant-suit, and feminine blouse that shows off an enticing amount of that fantasy-inducing chest of hers.

Catherine doesn't stay in the room long. She was apparently just here to collect the water bottle that was sitting on the counter. She does, however, take the time to greet us and tell us that she's heard that it's going to be a pretty slow night. As she walked past me, though, we made eye contact for a few moments and then she seemed overly eager to get out of the room, but not before asking how I was feeling. I can tell that the display between us was enough to tip Nick off that a few drinks were only the start of my problems from the night before. Not a full second after Catherine is out of the room Nick makes fast eye contact with me and raises and eyebrow. He can't help but let an enlightened sounding "oh" escape his lips as he tries to decide if he should ask me about it or not. He decides against it because he is a rather astute guy and knows that this just isn't the time or place. Instead he just give me a knowing nod and after an awkward silence he breaks the tension by bringing up Sara. We exchange a few words on her behalf, discussing her physical and mental health over the last few days, and making our own predictions about how fast she'll be back in the field once she's out of the hospital.

When Grissom walks in a few minutes later, holding papers in his hand, looking at us over his glasses, I purposely avoid looking directly at his eyes, because apparently one can instantly tell my mental status by those alone. I stare just below his chin, hoping not to draw attention to myself, and hope he'll pass the assignments out quickly.

"Nick, you'll be with Greg on a suspicious 419 at the Palermo. Warrick, you'll be with Catherine on a burglary in Henderson." He informs us. I let out an audible groan that only momentarily causes Grissom to study me. He must not notice my current handicap, because he turns and leaves without another word. Nick and I both stand and he gives me a firm clap on the shoulder.

"Tough break, man. Just keep the discussion to work, I guess." He gives me a little advice as we both start walking to the locker room to gather our gear.

Catherine walks into the locker room a few minutes after Nick leaves and I pass her the assignment slip that Grissom had given me. I watch her face express a few different emotions, none of them too terrible, before she confirms that she's read it and says that she wants to drive. She's got to get a few things together so I just sit down on one of the benches and stare at my thumbs for a while so she can get ready.

A picture of Lindsey falls out of her locker and flutters to the floor in front of me and I lean down slowly and pick it up. I remember the picture, I was there the day it was taken. It was the end of June when she was about nine I think, a few months after Eddie had died. The whole lot of us had to work on the Fourth so we had all decided to go to Lake Mead that Saturday and set off a few fireworks and have some burgers before we had to be in for work. Well, Grissom and Greg weren't there but I remember distinctly that Catherine, Lindsey, Sara, Nick and I were, and I'd like to say that Archie was too. Anyway, Lindsey was wearing a red, white, and blue dress and holding two sparklers that I'd just lit for her when Nick gets her attention long enough to snap the photo. She was wearing a necklace I'd given her and told her that it would protect her when she thought she needed her dad. It was my Grandmother's, and I can still see the chain

hanging around her neck and into the side of her collar.

I pass the photo back to Catherine and say "Hard to believe that's the same kid I found in the bushes last night."

She accepts the picture from me and glances at the photo of her beloved daughter at far easier age than the scowling teen she'd said goodbye to earlier. She smirks and lets out a small chuckle at the smile Lindsey wears on her face. A thumbnail lightly grazes over the necklace Lindsey has on, and she remembers just as I have, that I was the one to give it to her. I feel partially like Lindsey's parent, after knowing her all these years. I know that the hurt I'm experiencing about what Lindsey said to me last night, about how she pretty much didn't want me near her, was nothing compared to all the teen angst Lindsey surely threw her way on a regular basis. I had surely only gotten a taste of Lindsey's attitude and sharp mouth. How did Catherine put up with that kind of hurt from day to day? After gazing at the picture for a good ten seconds, Catherine secures it back in place in her locker door with her magnet a little firmer this time.

"She used to be such a happy kid. Sorry again you had to witness that last night."

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm never going to mind sticking up for her." I say with a genuine smile in Catherine's direction. "You know, I'd forgotten all about that day until right now."

"It was one of the rare, really good days Lindsey and I had that year." Catherine says, lost in introspection for a few moments. "That was the year Eddie died, you know?"

"Yeah, I remember." I say, and then I point at the photograph, now hanging back in its rightful place beneath a picture of Catherine, her sister, her mother, and Lindsey from the vacation they all took together at the beginning of this summer.

"She's wearing the necklace I gave her," I leave out that it was once my grandmother's or that I would probably have given it to Tina had it still been in my possession when I'd married her.

"Yeah, you know I think she still has it." But Catherine changes the subject by closing the locker door quickly. I stand up and take both her kit and my own in my hands and prepare to follow her out of the building and into the Denali that she'll be driving to the crime scene. I silently wish that we'd found more common ground to stand on in the couple of minutes in the locker room, because I have a feeling this is going to prove to be a very awkward evening, starting with one hell of a tense car ride.

Cath already has her keys out, so I let her claim driving today with no fight. Usually I tease or argue with her about her driving skills, but today I know that wouldn't be a good idea. I feel like I'm on a thin string with her - that she's being nice about things right now, and not bringing up my drunken house call. Part of me wishes that she would bring it up, because I know that eventually we'll need to talk about what we are, and if we could ever be something else. I can't help it - I'm a guy, and I don't like awkward shit. I can't stand to not know where I stand with someone, but women of course have a way of turning any situation dramatic. Soon, we're both buckled up in the Denali heading for Henderson, the air conditioning turned up high to blow away the blazing late summer heat.

We drive along in pure silence for a while, apart from the steady constant blow from the vents. After about fifteen minutes, the car has reached a tolerable temperature, and it's beginning to get slightly cold. I reach out and turn the air down, in turn creating a rather deafening silence I wish I could cover up. If I were to turn the air back up suddenly, she would sense in all her female perceptiveness that I was indeed awkward about the situation - that I knew I had messed up by showing up on her doorstep. But still somehow, with this hangover and this awful silence, I don't regret it.

Finally, being a man like I said, I can't stand the tension so I lean around into the back seat and flip my kit open and remove a bottle of water. Once I opened the cap and drank liberally I lean the bottle towards Catherine and offer her a sip. I don't know if she can tell that I did the entire display simply because I wanted to speak, or if she buys that I was just really thirsty, but she takes the bottle and drinks from it. Now since she's a woman and all, and though I made it through four years of college and a decade working at the number two crime lab in the country, I've never learned women so I can't be sure, but I feel like this was a good sign.

Once she's done with the drink and passes it back to me she says "Thanks, 'Rick." Now again, I'm no Casanova, but I can't help but feel like her utilization of my nickname is a pretty good thing.

"You, uh, want to listen to something?" I point to the radio.

Her right hand rakes through her straight reddish hair, another sign, I say to myself, that she is relaxed with me, and not angry. If she was in no mood to talk to me, her hands would be gripping the steering wheel, and she would be sitting with that perfect posture she adopts around people she doesn't fully trust.

"Sure, but no rap." She warns me, knowing that on occasion I like to sample a little of that genre, like any guy in his twenties or thirties. I smirk and nod as I turn the dial to a classic rock station, one that I know she likes. Hey, it can't hurt, can it? Once I settle on the station, I lean back in my chair and observe her tapping her manicured fingers on the wheel, her head bobbing slightly side to side with the beat - almost so little not to notice, but with my keen eye around this woman, I make note of it. She's in a good mood. This is a very good sign for me, I know, so I just sit back and let her jive to the music without comment for a couple songs, allowing her to loosen up.

I kind of watch her enjoy the next couple of songs until one she doesn't particularly like comes on and she turns down the volume, I guess so we'll have the chance to talk. She gives me a second to see if I'm going to go first, and then decides to go ahead and just let it all out there before we're too close to our crime scene to really talk.

"So, do you, uh, want to talk?"

"Yeah" I say, which is only a half truth. Things are okay between us and I just don't really want to go back to the awkwardness that we've been feeling the last twenty four hours. I analyze the place where the tint becomes almost invisible at the top of the windshield and think about what I should say. I'm trying to decide just exactly what she wants to hear, but it's so hard. I know there are so many things I can do or say that are going to make this go from bad to a lot worse.

"Hey Cath, listen, I'm really sorry about coming over like that last night. It was stupid."

She sighs loudly, still looking straight ahead at the road, and not at me, making me feel like she expects me to explain more. Not a good enough apology, I think to myself, which I'm sure is a G-rated version of what she's currently thinking. She doesn't say anything, so I feel compelled to continue, hoping I won't say anything stupid. Neither of us would be surprised if I do, though.

"I, uh...I let my emotions get the best of me." I try to explain my actions, but not make excuses, because I know that pisses her off. "I realize it wasn't the best timing." I've been speaking to the windshield all this time, and finally turn to look at her face. I can only see a side view, but I can tell she's carefully considering what I have to say. Not that she's accepting it, but she's at least not biting my head off yet.

"I'm sorry I put you in that situation. It wasn't fair."

"No it wasn't" I think I can fairly honestly say that this is probably the first time that Catherine agreeing with me didn't feel like some sort of validation in my life. Usually all I need is a few words of agreement or support from her and I'm pretty much set. Not this time.

I drum my fingers on the grip bar in front of me for a few more seconds before I speak again "I know. I haven't exactly been fair to you much at all in the last couple of years. I haven't been much of a friend, either."

"I wouldn't say that, 'Rick." Her eyes meet mine for a split second before she speaks again, if the radio hadn't been turned way down and the air conditioner on low, I wouldn't have heard her. "It takes a good friend to be there for me like you were last September with Lindsey and Sam and all." She leaves out the fact that she thought she'd been raped, but I know this affected her too.

"I mean, we hadn't really said 'boo' to each other in months and there you are, helping me like that."

"Catherine, that... that was nothing. I don't care what's going on, I'd never not be there for you through something like that." I can't believe that she was surprised by this, and suddenly I feel like an even more horrible person. I let her feel like that. I let her think I just didn't care about her at all anymore. If she truly didn't know that I'd be there for her, no matter what water passed under the bridge, then we have a lot more problems then I ever realized.

"Rick, you have been there for me more times than you know." She tries to convince me, and for some reason she seems to be trying to pump me up. I wonder if she feels sorry for me - the fact that I put my heart out there last night, and she didn't take. Kind of like a cheerleader agreeing to a pity date with some average joe.

"You've gotten me through so many rough times. Lindsey too. And you think I should be mad about you showing up on my front door?" She questions me like it the most ludicrous thing she's heard all day. "At the very least, 'Rick, it's flattering. But, uh..." She looks down momentarily, as if she's trying to decide whether to continue. "It lets me know your heart's still in this. That the fantasy's still there."

My phone picks this inopportune time to ring. Figures - I get the woman of my dreams telling me she's glad the fantasy is still alive and the phone rings. I bet it's Grissom. He always screws things up for me in the lady department. I grumble a little apology, more annoyed with myself that I didn't put my phone on vibrate or silent. I reach into my cargo pocket and retrieve the ringing phone, looking at the caller ID. To my surprise, it's Lindsey. I'm afraid to answer it, because I figure she's calling to chew me out about ratting on her last night. I clear my throat, trying to act nonchalant, because I know Cath will ask lots of questions afterwards if she knows her daughter is calling me for some reason. I flip the phone open and bring it to my ear a bit nervously, though I think my voice hides it well.

"Warrick Brown." I answer, all-business, so Cath won't suspect anything. I don't know why I'm being all sleuth about it. That sweet voice that can turn sour at a moment's notice greets me on the other end.

"Warrick? Hey, it's Lindsey."

"Hey, what can I do for you?" My response must be adequate because Catherine doesn't seem suspicious.

"Well I was just calling to say thanks, for the other night, I know you could have had me in a lot more trouble than you did."

We arrive at the scene within the next couple of minutes in my conversation with Lindsey, so I gently gesture to Catherine that I'm going to take the call in private. I know I can't tell Lindsey that it was 'no sweat' because in truth, I shouldn't have let her off so easy. Once I'm well out of Catherine's earshot, I make the decision to give up the truce I have with the fifteen year old and say what's really on my mind.

"Just because I didn't tell on you doesn't make it okay. There are some things you mom just doesn't need to hear her kid is doing, it would break her heart. Lindsey I know you're growing up, and I know you like this guy, but you've got to be careful not to do something you're going to regret."

"You know, 'Rick, I thought you were cool."

"I'm not trying to be cool. I care about you, believe it or not, and I don't want to hear that this guy hurt you, or worse..." I can't bear to finish the idea. He could get her pregnant, get her involved in drugs and God knows what, he could aid in her flunking out of school. Guys like him were bad for girls like her.

"I thought you trusted me 'Rick. I thought I could trust you." I know she's making the same face that Catherine makes when she's angry, her cheeks and lips are becoming thinner and her eyes are probably glowing with rage. "I guess I can't."

The girl sure knows how to drive a stake into my heart. She might as well be, the way that kid guilt-trips me. At times like this, I wonder if I could ever be a good father to a daughter. I feel like a softie, but I also know I have to stand my ground with this one. I stay firm just when I need to, even though it's the hardest thing to hear her tell me that she can't trust me.

"Lindsey, that's not true. You're not an adult yet, and you're naive if you think that guy has your best intentions at heart. He's using you, and I don't wanna see you get hurt." I pray that I'm getting through to her, but Lindsey predictably has a smart, stabbing comeback for everything an adult looking out for her best interest does.

"I don't know how to act like an adult?!" Her voice is growing pointier and harsher. "If you're a model adult, that leaves something to be desired. Yeah, sorry. I guess I'm not to the point in my life, as an adult, where I show up drunk on someone's doorstep like some loser."

"Lindsey, I'm not going to try to lie and say that I haven't made mistakes, but you don't have to say things like that, I'm really just looking out for you. I don't think your relationship with this guy is a good idea." I really don't want to be fighting with her but I don't know... It's amazing to me how much power the Willows women have to send me into this emotional turmoil. At least one of them understands that I care.

"You think you're one to be handing out relationship advice? Do I have to remind you how you treated MY mother? You've made mistakes too Warrick, and a drunken apology isn't going to fix them. I hope you know how much you hurt her, how much you hurt both of us, and I hope you know that I'm not okay with you trying to saunter back into our lives. If you hurt her again... I swear Warrick, I'll..."

"Lindsey, I never wanted to hurt your mother... I never wanted that." I feel slightly crushed, I realize that I've made a lot of mistakes in the past. I never realized how profound of an effect the things I'd done had on both of these ladies that I cared so much about.

"Sometimes it's a little to late for 'I never wanted' Warrick, and sometimes people give you a second chance when you don't deserve it. I can't believe I almost did. You are a pretty horrible human being."

I can't believe the way Lindsey is speaking to me right now. She used to look up at me with those big blue eyes, and they made me feel like I was worth something. Now, her words cut into me like a knife, making me feel about four inches tall. Not because she's being unfairly mean - everything she is saying is true, and she knows it. I stumble thinking of a response, but soon realize I won't have the opportunity. The phone clicks off, and I realize that Lindsey has hung up on me. It feels like a slap in the face.

"Lindsey?" I check to see if she's there. "Lindsey!!" I yell into the phone quite loudly, not even thinking about those who might be around me. I let out an annoyed grunt, shaking my head as I slap my phone shut. I start pacing around in place, and I soon realize that someone is watching me. Looking up, I see a confused and, if I'm not mistaken, slightly ticked off Catherine Willows. I gulp, hoping that look isn't for me.

"Was that Lindsey?" She demands, exasperated.

"Yeah... she just called to... set me straight on a few things." I give her a half smile. "No harm, no foul, just a, uh... conversation between friends."

Catherine isn't amused in the slightest by my beating around the bush for Lindsey's sake and the look she gives me insures that we're on the same page about that one.

"You don't look like you were just having a conversation with a friend 'Rick." Then she goes off on some tirade about how she specifically told her daughter to stay off the phone and that she was grounded for the next two weeks, no privileges.

"Cath she just wanted to apologize about last night, honest." And this was the truth, or at least a version of it. I know that the beginning of the conversation was the teen's way of apologizing without actually saying the words. I know I never apologized to anyone when I was fifteen, no matter how much they deserved it.

"That daughter of mine..." I could tell that she was very disconcerted by the conversation that I'd just had with her renegade daughter.

She shakes her head and raises those eyebrows as if she's run out of things to say about Lindsey, or doesn't even know where to start.

"She just doesn't listen, and I'm SO tired of her just ignoring everything I tell her to do, and NOT to do, for that matter..." I reach out and touch her shoulder, but she pushes it away, and then turns to walk to the crime scene, knowing she's getting into something not appropriate to be discussing at work.

"Catherine." I call after her, much like I tried to get Lindsey's attention minutes before. She stops and turns to look at me. Her face is painted with frustration, and it's challenging me to dare try to give her some advice, or to tell her to calm down. I decide to be honest with her, because I know me fibbing for Lindsey's sake isn't helping her. "Alright, she went off on a rant when I tried to tell her off a bit about last night. But, Cath. It's not like I've never been served my mistakes on a plate like that before."

Catherine turns around quickly in a way that makes her hips, chest, and hair swing with this grace and extenuation that she's always possessed, a constant throwback to her previous career. I try to ignore the things I'm thinking that are not appropriate for the place nor the time. The expression on her face helps to quell my growing desire as she's obviously demanding I explain just how the things her daughter said were okay.

"Besides, the only reason she's so upset with me right now is because she loves you so much... I mean... man she's like a tiger." I laugh, "If I ever doubted she was yours, the way she fights for people she loves, that's all you."

Her eyes narrow at me slightly, as if trying to calculate my sincerity. What I say is true, though I know if Catherine had overheard how Lindsey had spoken to me, she would not at all be pleased. I don't know why I'm protecting Lindsey still. I guess I feel that in part I'm protecting Catherine too, by not making a big deal about the teenager's mouth. Catherine sighs and looks down at her foot - her pedicured toes peeking out from beneath her heels.

"Funny. The only person I ever see her fighting for is herself." She quips, and I can just see that description fitting the firey blonde I spoke to moments ago. Her voice is calmer now; more contemplative. I can tell she just doesn't know what to do with Lindsey - whether to tighten the leash, or give her more space, like she's surely been demanding.

"I mean," Her voice sounds so hopeless suddenly, "I know teenagers are supposed to be rebellious and mouthy, but - " She gestures to nothing in particular, not even sure how to reference all the crap that Lindsey throws her way. "I don't know if this is normal."

I feel like she's crying out for help, but I think she's asking the wrong person. I have no kids, no experience as a parent. But I sense that what she wants is just someone to listen to her. I've told Catherine countless times in her life that if her daughter is anything like her, and I can imagine that Catherine was the same teen to a T, then she'll turn out just fine. I've never lost faith in this but maybe something is wrong with Lindsey. It's obvious that she loves her mother more than she's willing to let on. She didn't even think about that fact that Catherine had her on the punishment from hell when she was threatening me not to hurt her again. It's like both of them just don't know how to communicate with the other. Catherine is done waiting for me to respond to her and walks into the house where she sees a rookie standing in the kitchen, she can't even talk to me and we were having a conversation. Maybe I just stumbled into something, I mean, Lindsey and I were communicating, just not well. I'm starting to think that the two of them need to be locked in a closet together and not let out again until they've talked, really talked.

Once at a crime scene, Catherine is always all-business, and this time is no exception. Though I can tell she has a weight on her shoulders, she doesn't let it interfere with her work, as she asks for a summary of the findings from the officer, and kneels down next to the body to begin her part of the job. I always have to remind myself to work when I'm with Catherine, because I could just watch her all day. Does she know how beautiful she is when she's pondering a crime scene? The way her perfectly manicured eyebrows crinkle in thought as she thinks out loud about what she's seeing. If she does, today she is very into torturing me. I manage to make it through the collection of evidence. When we're all finished, we pack up our stuff and load it back into the Denali, having made no mention of our previous conversation since we'd entered the house. Cath tosses the keys to me this time, exhausted from the scene and from her stress with Lindsey. As I start up the car, she touches her fingers to the bridge of her nose, letting out a tired moan.

We're halfway back to the heart of Vegas before either of us speaks. Catherine has been holding her cell phone in her hand for twenty minutes and I know she's trying to think of a good thing to say to her daughter. I give her another moment to make the call and then decide to break the silence. "I was going to go see Sara after I clocked out... why don't you come with me? It'll be good for both of us to think of someone beside you,. me, and Lindsey for a while."

"Yeah, okay, but I want to be home before Lindsey goes to bed... I think I need to talk to her about a few things."

"I promise to get you home before curfew, little miss."

Despite her frustration, she gives me a full Catherine smile. She scratches at the back of her cell phone with her fingernail for a minute, and then finally puts it back in her purse. I've found from my limited experience with teenagers that arguing or questioning one over the cell phone is recipe for disaster. I imagine Lindsey has outright hung up on her mother many times, like she did with me. We share some more small talk on the way back to the lab. I try to keep the topics away from anything having to do with Lindsey and teenagers in general. Hopefully, by the time she gets home to speak with her daughter, I'll have her calmed down and not tear the thing to pieces, though she just might deserve it. After shift is over, we both make our way over to the hospital, to pay a visit to Sara.

Catherine enters Sara's room ahead of me but we both notice the two people who aren't Grissom in her room. Naturally he's not there, he's at work. Sara waves us in and sounds very happy to see us but doesn't even notice, it seems, that there are strangers in her room. One is about my age, tall, brown haired and brown eyed. He's dressed well like he has a good job. The other person is a teenaged boy. He's tall and has a mop of deep brown curls, and is dressed to an equal calabur as the man. I assume it's his father. Once the two have had time to process that we've come into the room they both stand, following the boy's lead. The youth, all manners, extends his hand first to Catherine and then to me.

"I'm Ryan." he introduces himself, obviously used to having to introduce himself to new people. The older gentleman does the same, telling us his name. After a few awkward glances and Ryan's insistence that Catherine take his seat the question of the hour comes up. Just who are they?

Sara seems a bit awkward also, and what I can only describe as a kid who's been caught doing something she shouldn't. I see her move to sit up a little straighter, and she smiles over a little at the teenager and the older man. The man gives her an encouraging nod. She then proceeds to give us the abbreviated story of how they came to be sitting beside her. Later, I find out that she doesn't want them to introduce their roles to strangers, because Sara hasn't told everyone who these people are. Sara smiles at us, somehow her eyes sparkling through all the pain and aches she's experiencing. Cath reaches her hands out and clasps one of Sara's between hers, like a little sandwich. They haven't always gotten along, but whenever one of them needs a little female comfort, they're there for each other. Another amazing thing about Cath, how she can push all the drama aside when she needs to.

"How are you feeling?" Cath asks her. I can almost visibly see Sara sigh at the question. How many times has she been asked that?

I watched a range of answers swim through Sara's head as she tries to decide just how to answer what seemed to be the question on everyone's mind lately. First she met me in the eyes, then Catherine, then her son Ryan, and last Alexander, her husband. It's weird for me to think of him that way and I know that on our next movie date I'm going to have a lot of questions. But Sara does have a husband and I see him standing before me, and she does obviously care about him a great deal because she turns to him for comfort at almost ever turn, it seems. After holding his gaze for a few moments Sara looks back to Catherine and I, simultaneously taking Alexander's hand in her own and locking fingers, and she speaks.

"I'm feeling a great deal better, actually." She forces a smile. "Now that Alexander and Ryan are here I dunno. I'm just a lot better."

"We're glad they're here then." I say and give them a welcoming smile. I know that Catherine and I both probably have our reservations about this, and our concerns about how it's affecting Grissom, but you can tell with one look at them that they're her world, or at least a huge part of it. I always knew that there was something that made Sara Sidle tick, something that made her, her. I think I've finally figured it out.

"So, pardon my asking, but how long exactly have you two been married?" I'm tempted to reach my hand out and stroke Catherine's back, she's trying her hardest to take everything in, and I just want to lighten the load on her shoulders. See if we weren't dynamic people we'd just stand here and be shocked and say something along the lines of _well congratulations, we're very pleased to meet you both_. But we're not static, and we have other things to consider. I know that Catherine and I are both thinking of Grissom too, a man we've both been very close with for a number of years, quite a few longer than Sara. We've both had our disagreements with the brunette and have had to work a great deal harder to grow to love her than we've had to with others. The problem is that though on paper we should be loyal and in defense of Grissom, we're also good friends with Sara too. Should we be excited or nervous about this? Happy or sad? Relieved or worried?

I'm half sitting on the table beside Sara's bed and behind the chair that Catherine is sitting on. Alexander is standing on the other side of Sara's bed, holding the hand that belongs to the arm with a cast gently in his fingers, and Ryan is sitting cross legged at the foot of Sara's bed while she begins to answer. She kick's her son, another title it's hard for me to give someone in relation to Sara, gently on the knee and asks

"How old are you again, eleven?" He gives her a playful jiggle on the ankle and corrects her.

"Oh, you're that old? Then we must have been married, oh, sixteen years? Right babe?" She glances back at Alexander for approval.

"Something like that." He playfully responds to her.

Their playful banter is a sign that they're more than comfortable together; that they care about each other a great deal. I find it endearing, and at the same time, wonder if Catherine and I would be like that if we were married. For a moment, I picture us in her living room, playfully joking around with each other like it was second nature. I must be in a daze, because the next moment, Catherine's hand is on my forearm, and everyone's looking at me, waiting for me to answer a question I have been too caught up in my thoughts with to answer.

"Uh-um what?" I stumble, looking from person to person for help. Sara smiles a little and clears her throat.

"I asked how work is going." She repeats for me. I feel relieved that it's a question I can easily answer.

"Oh - fine. You know, it's work. Same old same old." Catherine fills her in a little on specific cases - Sara seems actually entertained by the details. As we all know, she lives for work, but by the way she keeps glancing at her son Ryan, I know that her heart beats for him. After the small talk about work dies down, Catherine looks again to Ryan.

"So, Ryan. You're fourteen? That makes you a freshman in high school?" She checks, interested in this son of Sara's we never knew about. He looks like a nice kid to me, but then again Lindsey looks like a sweet, gentle girl.

"Yeah. I go to a private school back in Cali. I like it alright, besides the homework, of course." He shrugs and offers Catherine a small smile.

"Tell her about Omnipoint Prep" Sara prods him, obviously very proud of him for whatever the accomplishment was.

"Mom, it's not polite." he tells her. Perhaps he feels that he'd be bragging, or I don't know. Either way the kid seems to be obsessed with giving a good first impression, and he's doing a pretty good job.

"Nonsense," Sara scolds him gently "See these two are pretty much family and family likes to hear about how great the next generation is doing."

"Yeah, son, tell 'em" Alexander steps in and backs his wife up, pressuring their child out of his modesty. If only it was that easy for Catherine and I to get our kid to behave. Did I just say that? Her kid. Her kid.

"Omnipont Prep is a private high school about an hour away from dad and I, you have to meet certain standards just to be invited to apply. I got in."

"Certain academic standards" Sara stresses, beaming with pride.

I watch Catherine beam back at Sara, both knowing exactly how she feels to be proud of her child's accomplishments. Only, I don't think Catherine feels like she has as much to be proud of at the moment, but she's wrong. By many standards, Ryan is a much stronger, certainly more respectful kid, but I know from speaking to many parents they are proud of their child no matter what. I speak to parents who have lost their children, and find the biggest source of enjoyment for them seems to be a simple smile; a hug; spending time together. Lindsey isn't a bad kid by any means, but I can tell Cath is weighing her own daughter up against Ryan. At Butterfield, she makes average to above average grades, usually letting at least one C slip out each semester. She's never been that interested in school, which frustrates Catherine, I think. Cath rants all the time how Lindsey's priorities seem to be all mixed up - how friends, the Internet, and ballet all come before hanging out with her.

"Well that really is impressive Ryan, congratulations." I say, stealing the opportunity from Catherine before we both look like horribly judgmental people.

"How long do you guys think you're going to be staying?" Catherine asks.

"Oh, a few more weeks probably. Rye's school is starting up late and they've given us some computer information so he doesn't fall behind." Alexander tells us.

"Well, Ryan, I've got a daughter just a little older than you if you ever want to get out of the hospital and be shown around the town by someone who knows what kids are into these days. I'd be willing to let her off of being grounded for a few hours one night next week or something." Catherine is making the offer of the century and maybe hoping that Ryan will rub off on her daughter a bit.

"Thanks Mrs. Willows, but I don't think I want to impose on her." Ryan says, again all manners. It amazes both of us, he's even more mannerly than either of us, maybe even more-so than Nick.

"Nah, she's a really nice girl and I'm sure she wouldn't mind." I know Lindsey very well and I know that she is very accommodating to others when they're not trying to be adults. She'd probably be happy to show him around, and would probably even make friends with him pretty quickly. She's not a cold hearted bitch, she's just taking the teen angst thing to a whole new level.

Ryan seems somewhat relieved at the mention of a teenage girl. I'm sure he's been bored sitting around the hospital the last day or so. There's nowhere really for him to go right now - most of the fun places in Vegas require you to be over 21. I think he would be good for Lindsey to hang out with. With most people, I can just tell pretty easily if they're a good person or not. Ryan seems to be a model kid - perfectly well mannered, and one who definitely would know how to treat a lady right. I'm sure he's learned this mostly from his father, because Alexander has

treated Sara was the utmost respect and care. The kid has a lot going for him.

Soon, a nurse comes in and informs the group of us that visiting hours will be over soon. We politely say goodbye to Sara, Alexander, and Ryan, leaving them to have the last few minutes of visiting hour to themselves. I hear Catherine sigh contentedly as we leave the room and head for the elevator. Stealing a smirk and a glance at her, I notice she seems more laid back and at ease than she was at work.

"You seem better." I comment to her as we wait for the elevator to come to our floor. She looks at me, her expression calm and collected.

"I wish Lindsey was more like Ryan sometimes. I like that kid."

Catherine does seem better but I'm not convinced that she's feeling top notch at the moment. However I've got hope that I can have her in a pretty good mood if I just spend a little more time with her. At least, I hope a little more time with me will help.

"Hey, no reason to head home just yet, the night is still young. Want to go have dinner or coffee or something?"

Catherine runs her hand over her hair several times as she sighs, contemplating my offer. I wish our attraction to each other was so obvious and defined, that she would snatch up my offer in an instant, but it's not. I am still vying for her attentions, hoping like a nerdy kid in high school that the popular girl will pay just a little bit of notice to me. She looks at me and smiles barely.

"Sure. Coffee sounds kind of good, but I'm not hungry. And I need to get home soon to have another pleasant chat with Lindsey." She reminds me. I nod as we step off the elevator on the ground floor of the hospital.

"I can help you think of ideas of what to say if you want. Not that I'm an expert parent or anything." An amused chuckle escapes her ruby lips. "Neither am I, Warrick. Neither am I."

"Aw Cath, you're doing a great job with her." I tell her, she's heard me say this a thousand times before, I know, but I can't help saying it again. "She's just hit a rough patch. She's a good kid."

Catherine and I didn't speak for most of the ride over to The Java Bean Plantation. I'm driving because though she's starting to relax a little Catherine is still so tense I just want her to have the opportunity to zone out for a little while. What I really want to do is pull the car over and message her shoulders, her back, her neck. Why is it that I have the desire to do these things when I've promised her that I'm only interested in building our friendship at this point? If I don't quell these desires I'm afraid that I'm going to end up hurting her again, neither of us are ready for the things I want yet.

About five minutes later, we are both sitting at a little booth at Java Bean Plantation, waiting for our coffee orders to come up. Cath ordered a Latte, and myself a plain coffee. She shakes her head at me as we wait.

"How can you just order coffee at a coffee house? You can get coffee at CSI all the time." She seems more at ease now, but I know the conversation will soon turn serious. I smile widely, a little embarrassed by my choice of refreshment.

"I like it. What can I say?" Cath shakes her head at me, and then the kid at the counter calls our order out. "I got it." I promise her, and quickly retrieve our two cups. When I return, we both take a sip, letting out a relaxed sigh, glad to be in each other's company outside of work.

"So." I begin, marking the beginning of our discussion of Lindsey. "I'm guessing you think you're a bad mother right now, by what you just saw from Ryan." I venture the guess. She sighs and turns her cup around a few times on the table with her fingers.

"How can I not? He's perfectly well-mannered. Obviously a good student. I've tried so hard with Lindsey. I've always been there for her, and she back talks, lies, blows off schoolwork. I mean, how can I not think I'm a failure?"

"Well, the kid's been sheltered" I state my observations bluntly. "I mean, I guess I don't blame Sara, after all she's been through and all. But the kid... it's like she made him grow up in a box. Private schools all his life, wealthy father, perfect parents. Sara's all the way out here in Vegas–which I'm sure she did because she felt like she wasn't good enough. They probably pressure the kid a lot and watch him like a hawk. He's only polite because he doesn't know anything else. Trust me, Lindsey's a lot more prepared for the real world. You gave her armor that and that's something that kid doesn't have."

Catherine's quietly considering what I have to say, all the while toying with the rim of her cup. Her eyebrows occasionally crinkle in thought in such a sexy way, that I almost want to kiss her. Her concern for Lindsey makes me all the more attracted to her - she is such a good mother, and she never gives herself the credit for it. Neither does Lindsey.

"Yeah, but what gets me with Lindsey is the lack of respect." She explains, giving her hair a slight push back. "I mean, if I would've talked like her to my mother, I would've gotten slapped." This is obviously one of the things that bothers Catherine the most about her teenager. And it's true - Lindsey has a mouth, but what normal teen doesn't? Sure, Ryan is polite in public, but I'm sure there's been a few heated words exchanged over the years.

She's so damn sexy, and one of the things that I like about her so much is the fact that she can be so passionate. I mean, she's so wild over Lindsey having a better life than she had that she doesn't see that Lindsey's on the same path she was, but on a much safer scale. I would love to sit down with a teenage Catherine, because I bet she was just as wild and out of control at fifteen, probably at ten. She notices me watching her, with that look, the one that I used to give her. Well, I still do, but I haven't let anyone else see me in a couple of years. She decides not to reprimand me but to respond to my last words.

"Yeah but one of these days she's going to mouth off to the wrong person. Besides I'm her mother... she should have a little more respect."

I nod and give her a sympathetic smile. Though I'm trying to be helpful, I'm not an actual parent, and we both know it. I don't know what it's like to live with Lindsey 24/7.

"Cath, I know you don't feel like it right now, but you're doing a hell of a job with Lindsey. Besides you, she's pretty polite to other people. She does decently in school, and she's not into drugs and promiscuity. Some parents can't even say that."

She sighs, and gives a tiny smile, looking down at the liquid in her cup, which she has barely sipped. "Yeah, I guess. I just wonder what she'd be like if Eddie were around, you know? All those studies that talk about how important having a father around is. She hasn't had that since she was nine."

"Well she has me." I say, without even thinking. Her eyebrows arc up so high on her forehead I think they're going to recede into the back of her head. I cough. "And Griss, and Nick, and Greg, too."

"Oh..." Catherine almost says, seemingly a little disappointed that I added the others in as a protection clause. "Yeah... I know that... but it's not the same."

I nod slightly for a few moments in understanding. I know what it's like to grow up without a father, and though it doesn't always feel wrong - it just never seemed quite right. We always got along just fine, my mother and me, and then my grandmother and me. But as I got older, I always thought back to certain events and wondered how things would be different if my father was there. I bet Cath thinks about this all the time.

"You always know you can call me if you need help with Lindsey." I tell her, thinking I have never really said that out loud, but I mean it. I would be there in a heartbeat if Cath ever needed me for anything.

"Thanks." She says, but I know it's more out of politeness. "But I think she thinks of you guys more as uncles, not as any sort of authority figure. She's a nice kid most of the time. It's when she pulls something like...making out with Chad in the yard, that I wish Eddie was here."

I have this violent urge to lean forward and take both of her hands in mine. I want to make her look into my eyes and I want to tell her that I am there for them. That I want to be. And no matter what happens, or doesn't between her and me, I still love Lindsey like my own. I resist the urge though. I'm just sitting here, staring at her hands, and contemplating everything I'm feeling at the moment. Why is it all so complicated?

"Sorry." She apologizes after her rant when I don't jump in. I have been thinking about how much I love her, so I hadn't yet thought of a good counterance to her problem. She takes a big sip of her coffee as I clear my throat.

"Don't be, Cath. I am there for you and Linds. If you need back-up, if you need me to talk to her, I'm your man. I care about you and Lindsey, Cath. A lot. I don't want you to sit back and suffer by yourself." Catherine is studying me curiously, so I look away for a moment uncomfortably. I hope she realizes that I mean every word of that, because I would literally drop everything at a moment's notice to help them. Finally, I seem to have convinced Catherine of my loyalty to her and Lindsey.

"Thanks." She says simply, and we both sit there in silence for a few moments, sipping our drinks.

After about a solid five minutes of sipping and silence she stops, withdraws her hands from the table for a moment, and leans back in her seat. She studies my eyes in a way she hasn't in a long time. I watch her suppress a smile on her lips but it's evident in her eyes. She's still watching me, but shifts back onto the table, draping her hands around the mug, but not clasping it in her fingers. She starts fiddling with a stirrer from the table to keep them busy. She hasn't broken eye contact the whole time, and finally she speaks.

"Hey, 'Rick, can I ask you something?"

The way she words the question makes me feel like I'm being let in on some amazing secret; that I'm really special to her, and she only trusts me with this question. Well, I hope it's that way, anyway.

"Shoot." I tell her, trying to contain my excitement that she's choosing to confide in me. There's a long time when she probably wouldn't have - would've gone to Sara, or Greg, or Nick even. But she chose me.

"Would Eddie hate me for how she's turning out?" It's the last question I thought she would ask, but I guess it makes sense. I readjust my posture in my side of the booth and lean onto the table in thought.

"Of course not." But, Cath seems to take a lot more convincing than that. "You're doing your very best, which is all anyone could ever ask. He wasn't exactly father of the year, Cath. All the good things in Lindsey, she has from you."

"Hey, 'Rick" She says again, this time she settles back in her chair and stays that way, but for the first time in days I see her whole body relaxing.

"Hey Cath" I joke back.

"One more thing"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

I smile, thinking that is all I'll ever need to be happy for the rest of my life. Knowing I helped Cath in some way; made her feel better, or helped her realize what an amazing human being she is. As we sit there together in the early evening, just sipping and enjoying each other's company, I can't remember a time when I felt happier.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Thanks for stopping by again everyone. Here's another chapter for you all. We know that this one isn't as long as the last, but did you really expect that twice in a row? We're not super women folks, sorry. Fair warning this is the most GSRish chapter you'll read from either of us. It's pretty intense, but I have a feeling you won't hate it. The Snickers is coming... we promise.**

**Umm... Thanks for all the reviews. We were very happy to see all of those reviews for that last chapter. Please keep it up! You all know how much we love reviews. We learn a lot about each other writing together and one thing we've learned is that we're both review junkies. So... please feed our habits, we need the fuel for more chapters. Reviews are great. **

**-LLK and Bauerfreak.**

Symphony of Change

Chapter 4

Walking up the stairwell like I have done perceivably hundreds of times in the last few months, I wonder how many more times I'll have to do this before Sara comes home with me permanently. Every week, the doctors promise us, just one more week. It is frustrating to say the least, to be promised and promised, and for it never to come true. I mean, I know they're trying their best, but having my Sara gone; not being able to wake up with her beautiful, angelic face next to me on my pillow; every morning I have to go without that is such a shame. I'm over fifty years old, and have never really loved a woman until now. And frankly, I haven't known what to do with it. I mean, isn't love in itself the greatest gift in the world?

People are always worried about where a relationship is going; marriage and such. I have never been the type of person to pursue marriage unnecessarily. I find I fall out of love too quickly - but not with Sara. This time, it's different and I feel it in every ounce of my body. I've come to realize in the last few days, with this revelation about Sara already being married and all, that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Is it jealousy? That's what I'm afraid of. But is it normal to miss someone so much your body literally hurts whenever she's away?

I want to marry Sara. I've known it, at least a part of me has, since the day my friend Heather tried to kill herself last May. I spent so much of my time and energy trying to help Heather that I didn't see or even speak to Sara for a period of almost twenty four hours. I felt terrible. It felt as though I was committing an act of adultery to Sara, even though Heather had claimed my heart years before. Things with Heather were heated and passionate, but with Sara they struck a deep new chord in my heart. I knew I loved Sara in the same way I'd loved other women in the past, the way I'd loved Heather a long time ago. I told her this, in my own way, through a letter while I was away. But it wasn't until I could see the pang of jealousy and hurt in her face, while she tried to fight with herself to be trusting and open. It was then that I knew I loved her more deeply and with more of my heart than I could ever love another woman.

How can I marry a woman such as Sara? One who commands all of my heart, and expects that she will until the end of time, when she forces me to share her heart with another man? How is it that I love a woman so completely that never truly cared enough about me to make me her one and only? They say trust is the most instrumental part of any relationship. It is the seed from which every branch of a relationship will grow. 'It is like a vase... once it's broken, though you can fix it the vase will never be the same again.' I remember the anonymous quote my mother used to tell me when I lied to her as a child. What relationship do we have if its very foundation is cracked?

Moments later, I reach her hospital room, which has been decored with flowers and balloons for months - always a steady stream coming in. It reminds me of how different we are in some ways as people. I once told Warrick that when I'm gone, there will be no cake in the conference room. I'll just be gone. But with Sara - the whole team acts as if it is missing a vital organ. With her gone, people seem to think like their best friend has gone missing. I admit it. Work is just not the same without Sara, as evidenced by all the teddy bears and cards from our coworkers adorning her room. I walk in slowly, and my heart drops when I see that her husband and son are in the room once again. Not that they really have anywhere else to go. The fact that they exist poses a problem to my idea of marrying Sara. Though she assures me that they're not married in the emotional way, they're still married. All this time I thought Sara belonged to me, when really she and Alex were legally married.

"Hey you." Sara's face lights up as she sees me step into the room. I can see the happiness flush into her cheeks at the sight of me. It feels good to know that she still cares for me, even if her husband and child are in the room.

"Hey." I greet her. I cross the room and put my arms around her and kiss her gently on the forehead. Once I'm done greeting her I say polite hello's to Alexander and Ryan and then shift myself into a chair next to her bed, possessively taking her hand in my own.

"How's home?" She asks me. I know she misses Bruno. I wish I could bring him by to visit her for a few minutes, she'd be so happy about it.

"Bruno's fine, and so are Tiger, Marie, and Dave." I tell her. Making sure she knows that our dog, and the three house plants she insisted we name were still alive and well. She just smiles.

I notice that Alexander seems to be sporting some sort of headache this afternoon, the way he's draped lazily in his chair; his fingers massaging his temples. Perhaps he suffers from migraines like I do. Whatever it is, he is not a happy camper. Ryan, poor teenaged Ryan, in all his politeness, is visibly bored and in dire need of some kind of distraction from all this. Sara looks over at him and smiles.

"Baby, you look tired." She tells her teenager, rubbing at her own face tiredly. Ryan adjusts his position in his own highly uncomfortable chair and clears his throat, not wanting to make his mother worry.

"Yeah, a little." He admits. I study the kid from the edge of Sara's bed. The kid has been away from all his friends for almost a week now. He must be bored out of his mind, just wanting to talk to someone his age. Though I know I'm not the most interesting person in the world for a fourteen year old to converse with, I offer my services.

"You wanna go get a bite to eat Ryan?"

The fourteen year old doesn't answer me. He merely looks at his mother and seeks a look of either approval or warning. She, however, makes eye contact with me and thanks me, and then turns to her child and tells him to go with me if he pleases. The boy, though not looking eager, stands walks with me to the door. Once we've taken a few steps out of Sara's room I decide to break the conversation barrier now, while we still have a hope of saving our meal from a deafening awkward silence.

"So uh, want to go down to the Cafeteria, or if you want I could take you out someplace... we have a few places not far from here."

I'm not used to these teenager types. Well, most of the teenagers that I know are somehow involved in a crime, so usually they're not good news. Lindsey's the only other teenager I know, and she can be tolerable most the time, except when she gets in one of her moods. Ryan, on the other hand, seems to be a grade-A kid. He's respectful, which includes listening to my rantings politely on occasion. The kid scratches the back of his head as we walk to the stairwell.

"Uh, I'm pretty sick of cafeteria food. Maybe we can go out?" He asks, as if he's not sure if this is an acceptable answer or not. Humility, I think they call it. Ryan doesn't assume he knows everything like some teenagers do. I genuinely like the kid, which is a lot more than I can say about most people under the age of eighteen.

"Sure thing." I promise him. We walk down the stairwell in silence, just the sound of our feet meeting the floor in a steady patter. Soon, we are out the main doors of the hospital, and I decided to lead him towards a good burger place just down the road. "Are you a vegetarian like your mother?" I ask him, just to make sure, since we're heading to a cow factory after all.

He smirks and shakes his head in amusement. "Heck no. I live for a little meat."

"Good." I breathe out deeply and laugh a little. "Ever since your mom moved in I haven't kept any meat in the house. I haven't had a good burger in... years."

"Mom told me you're the reason she doesn't eat meat." Ryan tells me.

"I guess I am guilty of that one..." I laugh a little as I lead him to the 'green' parking deck and towards my car. As we get closer I remember that I took Bruno to the vet the other day and haven't had the chance to vacuum it out since. "Oh, uh... that one over there is mine." I point to the vehicle I've called my own for a few years now. "Sorry if there's hair and a little mud. I took my dog to the vet the other day and he jumped in a puddle on his way back in the car."

"Mom's compulsive... she'd have vacuumed it out before she even got home." He tells me. "One time when I was five I spilled a cherry slushier in the back seat, and even though we were five minutes from home she stopped at a gas station and scrubbed the seat. My dad kept telling her we could get it later."

I smirk and laugh a little. That definitely sounded like Sara. Certain things she was crazy over, and there was no possible way to sway her away from her beliefs. "I can picture her doing that." I tell Ryan, as we both get in and buckle up. Carefully, I pull out of my parking spot, and we're on our way out of the garage. We drive along in comfortable silence at first. I'm the adult, so Ryan probably feels like I should be in charge of the conversation. At least that's how I felt when I was a kid. "So, are you missing any school at the moment?"

"Not yet." he tells me with a shrug. "Dad says we can stay until mom gets out of the hospital, in case she needs us. But I know he has to go back next week for a few days to do something with the firm."

"You don't sound as excited about the possibility of missing school as most kids I know." I say, thinking about Lindsey and how she's grown to dislike school over the years.

"It's a tough school.l" he tells me, "And if I fall behind I'm never going to catch up. But I'd rather be with my mom anyway. I really missed her."

I'm tempted to pry into the kid's desires about which parent to live with - if he prefers living with his mother or father - but I don't think this would be appropriate.

"Well, I know she loves having you around." I decide to tell him as I pull into the parking lot of the burger place. Soon, we have been seated a booth inside, and handed our menus, when Ryan gets a bit of a worried look on his face. "Something wrong?" I ask him.

He looks up, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't have, and clears his throat nervously. "Oh, uh, I forgot to ask my parents for money to eat out." He explains. "If it's okay, I'll just tell my dad to give you some when we get back."

Damn, the kid is so polite and worried about adults liking him. I hold up my hand and shake my head a little, letting him know it's okay. "Don't worry, it's on me today." Ryan smiles and sighs a little in relief.

"Thanks, Mr. Grissom. That's very nice of you." I smile at his answer - this kid is so likable. Ryan orders a bacon cheeseburger with extra fries, while I opt for a chicken sandwich. After the waitress has taken our menus, we are left staring across a table at each other, with absolutely no distractions left, only time to talk.

I think for a moment about the last thing he said to me and say "Hey, everyone calls me Grissom, you don't have to call me 'Mr.' it sounds weird anyway."

"Thanks." He grins at me a little and then tells me "Mom calls you Grissom in her letters."

"She wrote about me?" I ask, a bit surprised. I mean I know we've been in a relationship for a while now but... it's just interesting that they knew about me, even though I didn't know about them.

"In almost every letter" he tells me. "You didn't know? She talked about you watching her write a few times."

"I guess I never realized she was writing to anyone special" I admit.

"Every day." he told me squarely. "She didn't miss a single letter until... well... the incident."

Ryan has a regretful look on his face that he mentioned 'the incident'. Sara's probably explained to them how it all came about, and how I'm partially, no probably completely responsible for why it happened.

"Yeah." I tell him softly. "I bet she wanted to." Ryan nods and used his straw to poke the ice cubes around in his glass absent-mindedly. Only, moments later, I find out he is deep in thought.

"Mr. Grissom? I mean...Grissom. I've been trying to figure out. Why was my mom going out with you if she's married to my dad? I mean, I thought she was happy with my dad." When this kid decided that I was someone to confide in about his thoughts about his parents is lost on me. I scrub a few fingers over my chin in thought - mostly nervousness - at the gravity of the question. How could I answer this and not end up hurting Sara or Alexander?

"Um...well," I bat at my salt and pepper hair nervously. "That may be something you want to talk about with your mom. I can't answer that for her." I tell the teenager honestly. He nods, as if expecting this answer, and stares down at his ice cubes again. "But I can tell you that I didn't know she was married. All this time...I didn't know, Ryan. Because I would never want to hurt people like that."

"I mean, I've know about you for like ever. Well... I mean when I was really little they told me it was because 'Mommy's prince lives in Vegas' but as I got older I knew she was here 'cuz of you but I didn't know why." Then he ran his fingers through his long hair he said "I mean, when we're all together it's like the perfect family... but when she's with you it's like she never wants to come home."

"Well your mom and I have been really close for a long time. But I'm just as confused about all of this as you are."

I feel vibrations through the table that Ryan is kicking at the table leg in nervousness. For some reason, he thinks I am safe to open up to - and I am, really. It's just that kids don't normally share their feelings with me and all. I hope I'm not totally screwing him up.

"I like you, Grissom. But I haven't always. I've always just wished my mom would come back and work in California near us, so we could be a family again. But I don't think that's what she wants. And my mom gets really depressed when people try to make her do things she doesn't want to."

He speaks so maturely, and while he's Sara's kid, he seems to know her so well. Most kids can't analyze their parents as well as Ryan seems to. He's right - Sara doesn't like to be told what to do, and doesn't like to be handled. For the first time I wonder - is me having Sara really worth this kid having to go through so much pain? I'm trying to think of an answer to his statement when the waitress swings by with a tray carrying two plates.

"One bacon cheeseburger," She sets the plate down in front of a slightly saddened Ryan. "And one chicken sandwich. Enjoy." I unroll my napkin containing my silverware, stealing a glance over at Ryan, who has since dug into his burger hungrily.

"Want to know why I stopped hating you?" He asks me, taking a break from his sandwich. I have to remind myself to chew and swallow before I choke myself to death in shock.

"Yeah, I guess I do." I tell him bravely. I might as well face my fears now, rather than worry about finding out at a bad time later.

"About a year ago... Mom's letters got happier" He tells me frankly. "I mean she wouldn't admit it, not really. I don't think a lot of people could tell, but when she was seeing that guy Hank her letters weren't as happy. Then it was okay for a while, but when you and her actually happened... she just started writing so much happier."

I just nod. I know that Sara loves me, but I never realized that other people could tell so... profoundly.

"Speaking of her exes... I don't know what he did... but since I'm in town you think you could get me that Hank guys address?" He balls up a fist implying he wants a few rounds in a ring with the guy. I smile and nod at his threat. I've wanted to beat a bit of sense into Hank myself, but then again, if he was still with her, she couldn't be with me.

"It's a good thing she moved on from him. He wasn't good news for her." Ryan nods in agreement and takes a sip of his Coke, and we continue with our meal. As I drive Ryan back to the hospital later, our conversation has me thinking. Is it so clear to Ryan that Sara and I love each other? And if it is that clear, should I do something with it? I mean, I've never been one to needs a woman to declare she loves me - I can just feel it in a kiss, the holding of our hands, a hug. Somehow, with Sara, I need to hear it. I need to hear that she loves me, because sometimes I'm afraid it's not true. If we don't say it, is it really true? What I need to do is label it. I need to put a title on what we are, so it's clear to everyone else that we belong together; that we're an item. I need to make Sara my wife.

We retrace our steps all the way back to Sara's room where I return her child to her, whole, unharmed, and with a full stomach. I think I've done well for my first day out with him. I feel proud of myself like I passed a pretty hard test without even studying. Granted it was a lot easier than it should have been. The kid had more manners and class to him than a lot of adults I spend time with on a regular basis. For a while I stand in the room and talk to Sara, Ryan, and even Alexander a little, and I realize that I really don't hate her husband. He's a good, decent man, and I can see why Sara would want to marry him. It's a little uneasy, though, standing in the room with a man who's been married to Sara for quite a few years, and wanting her for my own. I wonder what he thinks about me. I spend a little time with the small family, but then feel like I've worn out my welcome with their family time, which is strange because I've been the one at her bedside the last few months. They all say goodbye politely, but I'm sure Alexander is relieved to see me go. I feel like I haven't been home in forever to see Bruno, so I make a quick stop to give him a walk, feed him, and give him a little TLC. When I deem him thoroughly loved, I hop back in my Denali and drive off to the CSI Headquarters.

I arrive at work, about an hour from the time I left Sara at the hospital and I'm greeted by a host of people in the break room. I can tell by the looks from face to face, who knows about Alexander and Ryan and who doesn't. I'm not really prepared for the conversation that I know everyone is going to try to incite me into, so I just nod a hello to everyone and depart back to my office where I plan to busy myself with paperwork, and await the eventual visit from Catherine. She's a dear friend and she cares about me so I can foresee her arrival to talk to me.

I ponder a case file for a few minutes before I hear that familiar click clack of high heels on the floor just outside my office. Though I know it couldn't be Sara because she's not around, I instantly identify the owner of those heels to be Catherine. I still can't understand how she can wear those things for hours at work, but after so many years, it has become her trademark sound; almost like a theme song. Her slender figure appears in the doorway a few moments later, as the clicks cease.

"Hey, Bugman." She greets me, and I look up, to find her predictably perfectly put together, her light orange hair curled perfectly, looking professional and somehow sexy at the same time. I take my glasses off and smile at her as she comes in farther.

"Hello." I tell her as she drops a file on my desk. We've never been much for small talk, usually right to the point, with no beating around the bush. "Did you get that shift report in?"

She sighs and tousles her hair slightly, indicating she is already tired. "Sure did. It's a miracle, though." A furrow my eyebrows, realizing she opening up to me a little that way not many people do. We've been friends for so many years, and while I greatly value my friendship, I still don't understand why she would want to confide in me. What have I ever really done for her?

"Why's that?" I ask her as she turns to go back out the door, obviously wanting to make this quick.

"Oh, just more teenage angst and disobedience for Lindsey. But I managed to get the report done." She tells me. I'm not sure if she wants me to ask her more about this - it's always hard to tell with her. She knows I'm not exactly the greatest person to ask for parental advice. Hardly anyone at CSI is a great person to ask. Most of us are single and childless, and deal with some of the worst juveniles mankind has to offer.

"Oh. Sorry." I tell her, not knowing what else to say. She smiles a little, knowing I have nothing to offer her in that department. She shifts her body again and then walks into my office and closes the door behind her. She sizes me up visually and then says what I knew had been on her mind since I walked into the building.

"So, I met Alexander and Ryan."

"Oh, yeah." I shift and offer her my 'I'm a trooper' smile. "So did I."

"What did you think?" Catherine asks me gently.

"Oh... I don't know. I'm adjusting." I give the same smile again. I remember the time so long ago when she came to me before my surgery. She's always known how to be there for me.

"Come over sometime next week, we'll talk." She invites me gently. I don't have time to accept before Nick knocks on the door to come in.

"That sounds great. We'll talk later." I promise my long-time friend. She nods and exchanges a quick hello with Nick as he walks into the office with a single sheet of paper; probably a trace of DNA report he wants to discuss with me. He clears his throat as he sits down at one of the chairs in front of my desk.

"Trace report eliminates our top suspect in the Henderson case." He tells me, gesturing with the piece of paper. I sigh and nod my head, getting more and more frustrated by that certain case we're working on.

"Well, we'll just have to go back to square one. Talk more to the witnesses." I suggest, and he nods affirmatively, knowing how much more work this will mean. However, for once at work, the cases aren't really on my mind. Well, these last few months, Sara has always been on my mind, but more so today. Nick seems like a safe person to talk to - he always has. He's a genuine guy and a great friend, though I don't always treat him the same. At work, I'm very professional and rarely speak about my personal life, which is why I think Nick looks so taken off guard by my next sentence. It's a tone I don't often use - one of vulnerability; of taking a chance; of admitting I have no idea what I'm talking about.

"Nick, do you mind if I ask you some advice on a personal matter?" I fiddle around with my glasses nervously. He's obviously blown away that I've asked him. I watch him shift in his own skin a little before he just nods approval to me. I point to the chair across the desk from me and he closes the door and fills the chair I've asked him to. "I just...uh... wanted to talk to you because I know you and Sara are close... I just wanted to ask some things."

"Uhh... I'm not sure if I'm comfortable talking to you... if you're having problems" He says to me, I know she'll fill him in soon if he doesn't already know.

"I just need some insight into what she's thinking Nick, without it coming from her." I can still tell he's uncomfortable, but he really does probably know Sara the best out of the other CSI's. I hope I know her well enough to predict her answer to what I'm thinking, but I'm not one hundred percent sure, which is why I need Nick's insight.

His tongue wets his lips momentarily, and he nods for me to continue. "Shoot."

I let my glasses drop softly to my desk and run my hands over my face for a moment, pondering just how to put this. "Well, the last few months, obviously, I've been doing a lot of thinking about my life, and especially my time with Sara. And I think I've come to realize...that I'm in love with her in a way I've never loved anyone else. And that I want to do something about it."

Nick quirks an eyebrow and nods, trying to follow me. "Such as..." He prompts me to continue.

I clear my throat slightly. It's like saying it is admitting to someone I want to spend the rest of my life with Sara, and that is somehow frightening to me. "Do you...um...I think I want to ask her to marry me."

"Well, why do you want to? I mean... did something happen?"

"Have you met Alexander yet?" I ask him. It's not like Nick to be so oblivious of the things going on in her life. Maybe he doesn't know about them yet. "Or Ryan?"

"No." Nick scratches the stubble on his chin "I haven't, who are they?"

"The other men in Sara's life." I tell him. I don't know how else to put it.

He obviously thinks that Sara couldn't possibly be cheating on me. I guess that's a relief to me, in some way because I know that she never expressed to him that she was unhappy with me.

"Are those her kids or something?" His question only makes sense coming from Nick. I explain everything I've learned about Sara's other life over the past few days and then we regard each other in silence for a while.

Finally I speak. "So, Nick... what should I do?"

"If I had a girl like Sara," He tells me in a way that makes me pang with resentment and jealousy for a moment "I wouldn't ever let her go."

His steady eye contact with me after he makes the statement drives the message in even more seriously. I know Nick deeply cares for Sara, and it seems we both know just what a special person she is. I hold his eye contact and nodded appreciatively at his advice.

"Yeah. Thanks, Nick." I tell him, thinking that was all the advice I would ever need. It's clear to me that Nick's urging me not to let Sara slip from my fingers. We say our polite goodbyes and he stands up and leaves my office to go about his day.

I feel so much better, even confident now that Nick has affirmed my feelings about where I need to take things with Sara. I feel like I have the cat in the bag. Now that I've mustered up the guts to ask her, I'm sure she'll say yes without question, then we'll get married, have kids, and live happily together for the rest of our lives. I smirk to myself, excited, and already picturing in my mind how the proposal will go. I don't even think I can wait until she's out of the hospital. Maybe, this will give her the extra boost she needs to get herself out and back to her normal life. And years later, when she recounts the event to family and friends, she'll be holding my hand, and squeeze it when she fondly remembers how I proposed to her as she lay fragile in that hospital bed. But, I'm get ahead of myself. All I know now is that I am completely in love with Sara Sidle, and I'm going to make her my wife.

I know I'm getting ahead of myself with the idea about kids but I'll make myself comfortable with the idea of being a part of Ryan's life and that's a leap from where I once thought I'd be. I guess my love for Sara can do anything to my heart.

I want to propose with haste, therefore I can't wait until she gets out of the hospital so I start plotting now. Her favorite flowers are red poppies and have been ever since she read the book "Wizard of Oz" when she was a very small girl. I may not be the most romantic man in the world but I do know poppies are a must for my planned venture. I put a call into a florist... I order one thousand poppies. She's also a fan of Gilmore Girls, and since she made me watch so many of the DVD's with her I know that's how Max Medina proposed... only with a different flower. Now all I need is a plan for getting them dropped off, and a ring. I look at my watch and decide I can make it to the jeweler's before I go back to see her. The last thing for me to do is to iron out the kinks in the timing.

Sara's not exactly what you'd call a fancy woman, though she definitely has a certain natural beauty to her, so I know she won't want a huge, dazzly wedding ring. I pick something simple - not because that's what I think Sara is, but because she doesn't need all that extra glam. She shines in her own right, and any diamond on her hand would seem cloudy and dull in her presence. I smile to myself as the salesman wraps up the ring, picturing the look again on Sara's face when I ask her in my mind to marry me. She says yes, and we share a passionate kiss. She whimpers into it, like she can't bear to stay in that bed, away from me for any longer. Like it hurts that she can't be with me right now.

When I have paid and the ring is safely inside the box, sitting like the wonderful surprise it is in my jacket pocket, I walk quickly out to my Denali. On the way out, I keep touching the box, just to make sure it is there, and that I'm really planning to do this. I can't lose this, and I can't mess this up. It's the single most important thing I have ever done in my life, and I'm so incredibly nervous.

Starting up the Denali, I try to push these thoughts out of my mind and relax. I think of my butterfly collection...but they remind me that nothing compares in beauty to Sara. I think of my migraine headaches...and they remind me of how much my heart aches for her. Luckily, the drive to the hospital is not that far, and I can't seem to go fast enough. Speeding down the street which the hospital is on, I finally reach the parking lot, park in about two seconds flat, and practically sprint to the door.

I duck through the air conditioned double automatic doors and slip into the hospital on the third floor, Sara's floor, quickly. I've learned in the last few weeks of being here every day that if you park in the parking deck, around this one corner and on the third floor, it takes about four minutes to get from car door to Sara's room. Anyone else, those who still navigate the hospital and follow that light purple line on the ceiling, takes seventeen minutes and thirty seconds. That is if they don't get held up by traffic in one of the ICU hallways.

Today I'm walking more briskly than I have in weeks, since the first day I was here, and I receive an admonishing look from the nurse behind the circulation desk, even as I step over the threshold into the hospital. I nod and give the woman a smile and slow my pace to one that is acceptable for walking within the walls of a hospital, and take the few turns that have been forever ingrained into my mind, heading straight for my destination.. It takes me, today, only two minutes and forty-four seconds before I'm standing in Sara's room.

The odds are with me today, as I come to realize there is not one other person in the room with Sara, a rarity. No nurses, not her current husband and son, who are probably out getting dinner right now. I feel like I'm in the middle of a soap opera, trying to sway an already married woman into marrying me. It's not like she and Alexander are really married anymore. Sara crinkles her eyebrows when she sees me. I guess I must have a bit of an odd look on my face, so I clear my throat and mentally force myself to change my expression. Trying to play it cool, I walk over to her bedside, my right hand inside my jacket pocket, running my thumb over the delicate felt over and over again. I hoped that would be calming, but if anything, it made me feel even more nervous. Today, I can't seem to hold even simple small talk, as Sara asks me about my day.

"It took you a while to get here today." She smiles, because we both know I'm all about routine. I smile sheepishly, the reason I'm late making the butterflies in my stomach flutter even more.

"I, uh...I had to run a few errands." I explain it away. She nods and her eyes move up and down my torso as I sit down next to her. I wonder if she knows, and she senses that I'm acting differently for a reason. Women have an innate ability to read their men like a book.

"Are you okay?" She asks me when I don't talk for several prolonged moments.

The ring is burning a hole in my pocket and it's all I can do not to just propose right here and now, but naturally the florist is late. I check my watch again momentarily and then smile at Sara and say "Actually, today I'm great."

I know she's concerned about me because I'm behaving oddly, but this is the most exciting thing I've ever done and the waiting is driving me insane. I make another attempt at banter and small talk trying to while away the time until my plans are set into motion. I hate relying on other people when something important needs to be done.

I see a change in Sara's eyes and realize that the florist must be approaching behind me, so I turn and shift my body to allow them to enter, first with one boquet of poppies. I smile at Sara again and say "I've missed your smile, really seeing you smile, so I thought I'd do something to brighten your room."

They keep pouring in with poppies, three men, all wandering in and setting them all over the place. By the time they are done it looks like the red sea exploded and splashed color all over Sara's tiny room. I can see her counting silently, as I pas the final strand of flowers to her for her to hold in her hands.

"One thousand red poppies?" she asks me, and then her face brightens and her brown eyes glow golden.

I forgo taking a knee. That seems to be a foolish tradition in my opinion, and I simply lean forward and place a kiss gently on her lips. I have her mind otherwise occupied, with the sensuality of the gesture, that she barely realizes as I slip the open felt box into her unbroken hand and rub the back of her fingers gently with my thumb. I lean back, pulling out of the kiss, and await her realization.

As my lips depart hers and I pull back enough to see her entire face, I notice that her eyes are indeed not on me, but on the object I have placed in her hand. Surely, she's hypothesizing, like the scientist she is. Light, black, felt box. Beautiful diamond ring inside, and me gazing at her like she is the most beautiful thing that ever walked this planet, which she is, of course. But instead of that look of pure excited joy on the face of women in the movies, she looks a bit frightened. However, I still find I flitter of happiness in her eyes when she looks at me.

"Gr...Grissom, what is this?" She stutters, looking between my eyes and the ring I have given her in hope she'll ditch Alexander for good, and continue on that windy path we call life with me.

"It's uh." I stumble also. "It's an engagement ring." I tell her, and she nods slightly, studying my face. She seems like she finds my nervousness slightly cute, though that's not exactly what I'm going for.

"Oh." Sara said with a hint of humor in her voice, expecting me to continue with the whole she-bang. I let out a tiny chuckle from my nose at how ridiculous I'm being and gently take the ring from her hand and retrieve the ring. I grasp her left hand lightly in mine and very gently slide it on her finger. It fits perfectly, just like how she fits me.

"Sara? Will you marry me?"

"Gil." She says quietly studying me like she did that day so long ago when we first met. "After all that happened the last few days, after everything, this was the last thing I expected."

I'm starting to grow nervous, she hasn't said yes yet. She must see the nerves prickling at the back of my neck because she spreads her lips thin and exposes that sexy gap between her teeth.

"Are you sure?" she asks me. I don't even dignify her inseccurites with a response. I just gently close my fingers around hers, a gesture I hope she takes to mean I want her hand in mine for eternity.

"Yeah Grissom, Gil, I' will marry you."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: We're baaaack. When we do manage to schedule a writing date, we bust a whole lot out usually. Here's the latest installment in Cath's pov. The next chapter will delve into Nicky's thought and we'll find out what he really thinks about Sara. We hope you thoroughly enjoy this chapter, and take a few moments to review. Enjoy!!**_ -Bauerfreak and Lostladyknight._

_Symphony of Change _

_Chapter 5._

For the first time in several days I step into Sara's room and she's the only one in the room. She's sleeping with a copy of _Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West _draped over her fingers. I remember that Nick purchased the book for her about a week ago when he'd finished reading it himself. He'd been told about it by his teenage niece. I'm stuck by the image of Sara laying there with the paled ivory paperback grasped in her fingers. The image of the witch looking back at me with her protective hold on the young monkey, Sara almost looks as protected by the frightening green figure. Irony before my very eyes. I realize that we can never truly understand the people around us. No matter how long we thought we've had to grow to understand them.

It doesn't surprise me, for some reason, that Sara's heart has been alighted for many years by the _Wizard of Oz. _It grants her a purity that she probably hasn't known since childhood. Finally, I understand why I was assaulted by the overwhelming presence of red poppies in this room. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make her smile. I just can't help but wonder which gesture she took to greater heart, the book she clasped in her fingers from Nick, or the flowers that loomed around her in the room. Both were manifested from her love of Baum's book.

A sudden glint makes me aware of the diamond that she wears on her finger and I realize that the flowers were a dramatic display of romance, and the utmost attempt made by my dear friend. My heart makes me smile for a moment while I realize that Grissom must have truly reached to the edges of his expansive mind to pull of something so touching.

Sara's weary eyes flutter open, sensing someone else in the room with her, and I smile apologetically for waking her. I wonder how on earth she manages to get any sleep at all when she's such a light sleeper.

"Hi Sara." I greet her softly, as if when I speak too loudly, I would burst her eardrums. She smiles and rubs at her eyes, sitting up. I notice that she immediately tucks her left hand underneath the sheet, as if to hide her ring.

"Hey, Cath. Sorry, I was sleeping." I take the seat next to her bed, the one that is always otherwise occupied by someone else.

"No, no. Sorry I woke you. I was just coming to see you. I haven't been over in a while. She smiles appreciatively, and I know she's probably so tired of doing this. All she really wants to do is sleep until this is all over, I assume. I'm dying to know about the ring on her finger, but she doesn't seem that excited about telling anyone. Or maybe it's just me. "So, how's your day been?" I ask her.

Sara scrubs her right hand tiredly over her face, as if she doesn't know where to begin. "Alright, I guess." She tells me softly, and something in her voice tells me it hasn't been so. Isn't she thrilled that Grissom, I assume, gave her a ring?

"Cath, can I ask your advice about something?" She asks me out of the blue. I sit up a little straighter in my chair, slightly thrilled that Sara is picking me to talk about something obviously important. I cover my hand over hers in support. "Of course."

"Well," She plays with the cast on her left arm a little and then looks up at me. It has taken us a long time to get to the point in our friendship where we're comfortable talking to each other openly, but we both know that the other is a good and valuable friend. Not to mention, in a field dominated by men, we're both fortunate to have a female coworker and team mate. Perhaps the most resounding instant which has built trust between us was the time I came to her when I knew of nobody else to turn to. When I believed I'd been raped and left with no memory of the evening before. Sara picks one last time at the cast on her arm and then removes her hand, finally displaying the ring to me. "I was just wondering... well... what do you think of Alexander?"

This was, of course, not the question I expected. Did Alexander propose to her again? Did he desire to remarry her and change their relationship? "Well, honestly, I don't really know what to think. He seems like he cares very deeply for you."

Sara must have sensed what I was thinking because she says "Uh, oh... no. No. The ring... isn't from him."

There's a pause when neither of us says anything, because we both seem to know what a big deal this is. Someone proposed to her, and it wasn't Alexander. Was it who I suspected?

"Then...who's it from?" I ask the obvious question. Sara sighs a little and looks down at her feet, not entirely comfortable with answering the question, it seems.

"I want to keep this...confidential for now." She first clears up, and I nod in understanding.

"I won't tell I soul." I promise her, and mean it. Sara's trust is a fragile thing, I know, from being her friend for so many years. I know it takes a long time to earn her trust, but it's very easy to break. I, for one, do not intend on doing anything to hurt a woman who's already been hurt too many times.

"It was...it was Grissom." She says softly, and I can tell immediately she's not as thrilled with this as a woman who's just been proposed to should be. I do the polite thing, though.

"Congratulations. That's great." I tell her, smiling at her.

"Is it?" She asks me.

I'm taken aback by her last question. I've never once, until this moment, entertained the thought that Sara was anything less than happy with Grissom. I'd also never thought that he might propose but that idea never felt as preposterous as the idea that Sara wouldn't be thrilled. I think of the way it feels when you're in love with a man. The tingle you get when you think of him and the warmth you feel just knowing that he's there, or would be if you ever needed him. I can see in Sara's interaction with Alexander that she feels that warmth with him, but perhaps neither man in her life gives her that tingle. "I, uh, guess I never thought that you'd be unsure."

"Neither did I." she confesses to me.

"Is it because Alexander is back? Are you having second thoughts about being with Grissom because of him?" I ask, thinking that this is probably the case. I do realize, however, that sometimes a woman's heart can't be explained so simply. Mine never can.

"No." She tells me. "All of the love I have for Alexander, he'll still be nothing more to me than

my lifelong best friend. My rock. My guiding light. I know that's a tremendous amount to be to someone but he's just not... not the one."

"You don't think Grissom is either?" I ask placing my chin on my upturned palm as I allow the weight of my head to pass from my wrist all the way down to my elbow as it sits on my crossed knee.

"I just... don't know."

I give her a half-smile and rub the back of her hand, letting her know that a lot of things don't always make sense. That I understand her dilemma, though I can't imagine myself in the same position. Is there someone she stacks everyone else up against, like I do? Is she waiting, like Rapunzel in her high tower, for the right prince to come along? And somehow, in her heart, she feels neither Grissom or Alexander is the right one?

"Well, if you're not sure, the worst thing would be to go through with it while you're having these feelings. I think you owe it to yourself and to both those men to have a good long think about it." I advise her, which is all I can come up with at the moment.

She nods, but seems worried by this prospect. "I think he wants to have the wedding pretty soon."

"Well," I say with a half smile "There are two things you can do about it. Either you can run away and move back to California and just avoid the whole issue altogether," this I say in pure jest. Then I give her a more serious answer "Or you can tell him that you want to take your time with the wedding, because you want to focus on getting better first. It's logical and he's whipped enough I think he'd go along with anything you say."

"If only that was the truth." she mentions. She fears, I can tell, that the only reason he proposed was because he wanted to stake some sort of claim over her. He wanted to express his ownership of her to anyone else who might try to step in his way. "I just can't help feeling like he just wants to... I don't know... posses me."

Feeling possessed by someone else is something I know Sara would never be comfortable with. She is a highly independent, driven woman, who does not want to be taken care of. And yes, I can picture Grissom wanting to take care of her, and refer to her as 'his wife', and taking her to important events with him. This goes with Sara as much as tomato ketchup goes with ice cream.

"Well, I think that's something you need to talk to Grissom about. Let him know how you're feeling, because marriage is about being honest with each other." I think I sound like Dr. Phil, and not in a good way. Sara seems satisfied by my advice for now. I hope she doesn't feel like I'm trying to pawn her questions off to someone else, but I really feel like these are issues they need to address together as a couple. A nurse enters, knocking lightly on the door, knowing that Sara has a visitor.

"Excuse me, ladies. Visiting hours will be over in five minutes, so our patients can get some rest."

I smile to Sara and tell her that I'll be back to see her soon, then after wishing her luck with Grissom and her feelings I wander down the hallway towards the parking deck. Unlike Grissom, I enjoy parking on the lower level of the deck and wandering the halls of the hospital, and the many corridors of the parking deck between Sara's room and my vehicle, or vice versa. The quarter of an hour that it takes me to arrive at Sara's room, in the bustle of the day, provides me with much needed time for introspection and quiet contemplation.

I find it humorous, as I buckle myself into the driver's seat of my car, that Sara came to me of all people seeking advice in matters of the heart. Currently my love life is as messed up as one from the daytime serial shows that housewives are known for being addicted to. I don't even know my feelings at them moment. Well I'm pretty sure I do, but I'm still suppressing them. I'm afraid to let something so strong scratch its way to the surface again. What if I get hurt?

I settle for men I don't really want all the time, and while we make love, I pretend it's the man I really want to be with, though it seems it will never happen. I was into him for years, and it just never seemed the right time. Then Tina came along and messed things up for a good long while. And now Warrick seems like he may actually have a crush on me, and I'm scared. What if this is just a little fling? What if I give my heart and body to him, and he gets scared and runs off? What if Lindsey scares him off? I know she's been giving him hell, and he's wondering what it would be like to live with her all the time. I keep driving, my hands and feet subconsciously taking me down the correct roads, making stops at red lights, until I'm pulling into my own driveway.

Sighing, I turn off the ignition, and just sit in the car by myself for a few long moments, wondering if this will be the last peace I'll get once I head inside to be with Lindsey. Does it make me a bad mother, to want to avoid seeing my own child sometimes? It's just that she's so damn difficult I can't stand it. Finally, after a couple good minutes, I've composed myself and my thoughts enough to head inside and face whatever mood Lindsey decides to be in today. As I open the door that leads in to the living room, I'm pleasantly surprised by the smell of cooking food.

Lindsey is fifteen and barely knows her way around the kitchen to make herself breakfast in the morning, so the prospect that she's actually preparing a meal is foreign to me. I walk into the kitchen and though Lindsey is nowhere to be found I see a piece of computer paper laying on the kitchen counter covered in various grease stains, red splotches of sauce, and a recipe for a spaghetti dinner.

Lindsey steps back out of our walk in pantry holding a loaf of Italian bread in one hand and a shaker of garlic powder in the other. Apparently she intends to make garlic bread too. I find myself grinning from ear to ear looking at my daughter. I can't help but wonder what she's done to feel the need to buy me off this way, but for now I'm not going to let it bother me.

"What's all

this?" I ask my child. My beautiful, wonderful, generous child.

"I... I just wanted to do something for you. Cuz I've been a real bitch lately. Mom... I'm sorry."

She makes eye contact with me as she finishes, and I can see the sincerity in her eyes, almost a foreign thing to me. It seems nowadays whenever Lindsey speaks to me, I'm trying to decipher what is true and what's a fib, but in this moment, I can tell she's genuinely sorry, and her actions show just how steadfast she is in fixing her mean ways. I let out a pleased sigh and walk over to my teenager, enveloping her in a warm hug.

"Oh, Lindsey." I breathe out and just enjoy the feeling of her in my arms, something she doesn't let me do very often. "You have not been a bitch. I know you're just confused about everything. I just want you to talk to me." I explain.

Lindsey doesn't communicate with me like she did when she was a little girl. Everything she says and does is like a puzzle, and I have to figure out what she really means, and how it all fits together.

"I know, Mom." She whispers, sounding like the sweet little girl I fell in love with all those years ago, a long cry from her usual self these days. "I'm gonna try." She promises, just as the beeper on the timer goes off. Lindsey smiles at me proudly, because she's taken so much time and effort to prepare this meal. She takes my hand and leads me towards the already set dining room table. "Just sit down, and I'll bring it to you." Lindsey instructs me, beaming.

While she make a few trips between the kitchen table, which we have tucked away behind the other side of the counter, and the stove I while away waiting for her to serve me by trying to rub the finger prints off of the large glass table top with my thumb. My chosen occupation for the moment, being smudge wiper, isn't working out because I'm leaving as many finger prints as I'm removing. After she's done setting up the table with the banquet of noodles, sauce, and bread Lindsey talks to me.

"I called Warrick the other day." She says bluntly "I had something I wanted to thank him for, but I got really mad at him. I kind of ended up yelling at him. Mom are you going to let him hurt you again?"

I sigh, trying to think of how to answer this. It's not like adults always intend on hurting each other; it just happens. Warrick never intended to hurt me, but he did by default when he up and married Tina. It's easy to get your heart broken, and not always someone's fault per se. I can't really say that he'll never hurt me again - I know he would never intentionally do that. But it wasn't out of the realm of possibility I would allow my heart to be broken again.

"Lindsey, it's complicated. There's a lot of history, and Warrick would never hurt me on purpose." Lindsey shakes some parmesan cheese onto her plate as I push around the spaghetti, getting it thoroughly covered with the tomato sauce.

"But, Mom, you need to quit chasing after him. He's married to Tina isn't he?"

It's funny to me the way she asked the question. For some reason I get the feeling that she knows somehow about the divorce, which comes as a surprise to me because since I found out the two of us have done nothing but fight. It makes me feel a little on the spot the way she's asking me the question, as though I'm trying to break up his marriage.

"Honey," I say, opting to pretend that I don't suspect that she already knows. "I would never, never, even think about the possibility of anything with a married man. That's just something I'd never do."

"So" she pushes her food around on her plate. "You're not thinking about giving him another chance? Or... he's not married?"

I give her a little suspicious smile, wondering just what she's up to. "He's not married, Linds. He's going through a divorce." I inform her.

Lindsey nods and seems to contemplate that for a few moments. "So...when he showed up on our doorstep the other night he was..." She trails off to let me fill in the blank. I finish chewing the bite I've just taken and then wipe my mouth with a napkin.

"He's just a friend, Lindsey. He came over because he'd had a rough evening." I explain, which was true. I don't explain the subsequent conversations we've had, and about the suspicion I think that Warrick wants our platonic relationship to turn into something more now that Tina's out of the way.

"Yeah, right." She teases me. "Who shows up in the middle of the night when they want to just be friends?" I give her a playful glare as I twirl some more spaghetti.

I push my food around for another moment or two, and take another bite. It's actually very good and for the first meal she's really prepared for anyone other than herself I'd say it's fantastic. I wonder if I could convince her to take a culinary classes, I'm pretty sure that her school offers a few. I can't help wondering how she really feels about all of the possibilities that are developing with Warrick. I mean, I don't even know how I feel about it. I finish my bite and then swallow slowly. Finally I test the waters a little further. Grateful that we're finally able to talk again, I only hope that our rift continues to mend

"Everything you've said so far about this has been negative... and I think I'm feeling the same things you are, so I understand." I take breath and continue to contemplate my words carefully "But, do you think that there's any way it could be a good thing?"

She decides, much to my pleasure, to go at this in an adult way. I don't know what happened to change her mind about the way she talks to me, but I think I like it. I do have a suspicion that it's because of this thing with Warrick. She's so afraid that I'm going to end up hurt again that she's focusing more on that, and on me, than on herself and her anger. Perhaps he was right. Maybe she is a tiger when she cares about someone.

"We trusted him completely mom. Both of us. We thought he was always going to be there for us... and then he just goes off like that and gets married. It wasn't fair. I hate him for doing that to you. I hate him because he made you cry like that." She stops and then added something almost inaudibly. "I used to hate dad every time he made you cry too, sometimes I still hate him cuz of it."

"Well, the fact that we haven't gotten together isn't Warrick's fault. I've dated my share of guys, Linds, so Warrick probably figured I wasn't interested." I reason, and realize Lindsey probably thinks this excuse is as lame as I do.

"He's had plenty of chances." Lindsey tells me. "And I just don't like that it always leaves you disappointed and hurt. That's not fair." It's amazing to me how Lindsey can act like she hates me most of the time, but deep down there's feelings like this. She's protective of me, and is going as far as hating Warrick, a really wonderful guy, because he's hurt me in the past. I'm touched that she's being this protective of me, but it also complicates the situation so much more. When Lindsey was a little girl, she loved any guy I introduced her to as long as he was nice, and maybe dangled her upside down by her feet. Now, it was much harder to impress Lindsey Willows, and apparently Warrick was not doing a very good job.

I guess if I really had to think about it, the reason why Lindsey's so angry, and why I'm still pretty angry, is because she trusted him. Lindsey loved Warrick. He was a part of our family and a really amazing friend to both of us. We were both betrayed to him. It's hard to trust someone, to love them, and have them just break your heart like that. I can't really remember who I'm talking about myself or my daughter.

"So, you don't want me to pursue this with him?" I ask.

"Only if you promise that if he hurts you again we can put your CSI skills to good use against him" she grins at me a little. Then, unsure about where to take the conversation down a different avenue. "How's Sara doing? You haven't said much about her in a while."

I nod, realizing I haven't kept Lindsey as in the loop as she deserves about Sara. Sara babysat Lindsey a couple times as a child, and she didn't mind Sara now as a teenager, which was more than she could say about some people.

"She's better. The doctors say she should be out within a week or so." I wonder if I should let her in on the news about Grissom proposing. Lindsey's put me in a sharing mood, so I decide to. "Grissom proposed to her yesterday." Lindsey's eyebrows shoot up, and she gets a bit of a disgusted look on her face.

"Those two? Married? Barf." She retorts as she cuts a meatball into two pieces.

"Well, she said yes." I tell her, but decide not to dive into the conversation I had with Sara earlier. Lindsey would surely run her mouth to someone and Grissom would find out the wrong way.

Instead, I rethink the last time Lindsey and I were in to see Sara together and realize that she probably doesn't know the half of what's going on. I work a rather revealing smile onto my lips and then say "I know something way juicer than Grissom and Sara."

I know that I'm mimicking my dear friend Jim Brass' same phrase that he used with me a few months ago. At the mention of the work _juicy_ Lindsey's eyebrows shoot up. "Sara's already married, and she has a kid."

"No?" She's dumbfounded. "She was such a horrible babysitter when I was a kid, she was so boring. How old's the brat?"

"He's actually a really nice kid" I tell my daughter. "He's fourteen, but he acts more like he's thirty. And not a 'Greg' thirty either, a real thirty."

I know my definition of a "nice kid" and Lindsey's differs greatly. To Lindsey, a nice kid means a guy with a nice ass, and who's a good kisser. Of course my definition is the more accurate one according to society as a whole, as I go on to explain.

"He's polite, pleasant. And pretty good looking." Lindsey gives me a look. "Sounds like a real thrill. And no one had met them before now?" She comments before taking a sip of water.

"He is. They live in California, but they're here visiting. Actually, I think Ryan's probably getting pretty bored. I bet he'd like someone to show him around town a little." Lindsey rolls her eyes a little at the not so subtle suggestion that she be his baby sitter. Only, it would probably be more like Ryan babysitting her, the way she acted sometimes.

"I'm not getting stuck with Sara's nerdy son. He probably does Diabolical Sudoku in his sleep."

"He might." I admit, he is pretty smart. "But honestly you can't tell from looking at him. His father seems pretty loaded and he has the best clothes. They both always look sharp."

"I'm guessing by the look on your face that you already told them that I'd babysit him, didn't you mom?" She let out a deep sigh, I can see in her eyes, face, even in her fingertips that she wants to yell at me. However she just sits silently for a moment and says "Fine, if you take me off grounding there's a party on Friday I can take him too. Parents will be there, it'll only be about forty kids, and before you ask... yes Chad's going to be there. It's his cousin's place."

"Is it a senior party?" She knows I only ask this because I'm not pleased about her spending time with a bunch of seventeen and eighteen year olds.

"For the most part, Mom, but we wouldn't be the only underclassmen there." I decide that she's been pretty good today, and in interest of keeping on her good side I nod and tell her she can go. "Thanks mom."

"You have to be home by eleven, you have to be nice to Ryan, and you have to keep up this whole good kid act." I lay out the ground rules.

"Deal."

The rest of dinner, we have pleasant conversation about a variety of things. As we begin to clear the plates, I realized that we haven't had either a meal without arguing, or a silent meal, in such a long time. I really wish our evenings would go this pleasantly more often, but I knew that wasn't in the cards, really. Still, I decided to live for the day, and enjoy it while I got it. Lindsey even begins to help me with dishes, but I tell her that I'll do them, since she took the time to cook such a wonderful dinner for me. She smiles and disappears into her room to start homework, or probably to IM her friends, or a combination of both. Just as I'm scraping some of the burnt ground beef off the bottom of the pot (yes, I need to teach Lindsey about Pam Spray), my cell phone rings. Usually, I'd just ignore it, but for some reason I turn the faucet off and dry my hands just in time to see that it's Warrick on the caller ID. I'm pleasantly surprised, and answer immediately, wondering what he wants. "Warrick?"

"Hey Cath" he greets me, finally sounding completely back to his normal self. I'm overwhelmed with relief that he's alone and not drunk, drinking, and by the lack of background noise, not in a casino. I'm trying to suppress what I know would look like the smile of a giddy teenage girl. I'm just glad that my daughter's up stairs.

"What's up?" I ask gently, as I gently begin drying the few dishes that I'd finished washing while I wait for him to explain why he'd decided to call.

"Umm," He begins, and I feel empowered a little by the fact that he sounds nervous. Warrick never sounds nervous when he calls me. Always confident, suave, not at all fearful of how I'll respond to him. "Just, uh, hanging out." He tells me, which I know is not the reason he's calling. Guys are so obvious sometimes, and clueless. I can tell he wants to ask me something, but I can only wonder what it is.

"That's nice. How's your day been?" I strike up some casual conversation, hoping that this will set his mind at ease and cause him to spill the beans about whatever's bothering him. We talked about this and that for a few minutes, until I've poured myself a glass of wine and settled myself on the couch for some well-earned relaxing. "So." I decide to call him on his behavior. "Did you really call me to ask me how my day went?"

"Sorta, yeah" He tells me. "By the way, it's great that you had a good evening with Lindsey, just hearing that made my whole night. And, I did want to know how things were going with her, so that really was part of my motive for calling you."

"Well," It's not that I'm not thoroughly enjoying this conversation, because I am, but I was thinking of trying to get a movie with Lindsey in before we both went to bed for the evening. "Was there anything else 'Rick?"

"I just... uh... had a good time the other night when we had coffee." he takes a deep breath and I can hear the nervousness recurring.

I decide to ease the nervousness a bit, "I did too, but I always enjoy it when we do things like that, we should do it more often."

"I thinks so too." He tells me, I feel like now is as good a time as any, so I stand and start walking towards Lindsey's bedroom. I'm at the top of the stairs, standing in her door way, pointing at the phone and mouthing 'Warrick' before he finishes "So, I was thinking, why don't we do it more often. We could have dinner, Friday night maybe? My treat?"

I smile a little to myself and Lindsey, he's owed me a 'fabulous dinner' for several years now. I look to Lindsey for approval, and she tells me that it's 'my funeral.' It's all the yes I need, I think. But I plan to take things very slowly with him.

"That sounds great." I tell him, trying not to sound like a bubbly teenage girl who's just been asked out by her crush. Lindsey is eying me suspiciously and smiles when she sees me clenching my first, doing a little 'cha-ching!' motion. Warrick sounds surprised that I said yes.

"Really? I'm so glad you said yes." He tells me, and I can tell he's really nervous about this for some reason. I know he knows that we've been attracted to each other for years now.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask curiously, in a slightly flirty voice. Lindsey stands up and crosses the room, hoping to eavesdrop on my conversation. If I had been on the house phone, she would've already picked up another line and listened in. I let her put her face up close to mine, and hold the receiver so both of us can hear.

"You'll just have to wait and find out." I can hear him smiling over the phone.

I'm about to respond, when Lindsey beats me to it, and in perhaps one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, she blabs, "My mom looooves you!! Don't forget to kiss her good night!"

I snatch the phone back away from her, appalled at her outburst, and she starts giggling almost uncontrollably. I try to compose myself, clearing my throat and pushing a wisp of hair away from myself.

"Sorry about that." I apologize, but Lindsey had the guts, or the balls maybe, to tell him what I truly wanted. Yes, a kiss would be nice.

"You better not hurt her, or I'll hunt you down and paint your fingernails red!" She yells from across the room.

I'm more than a little annoyed at my daughter's regression back to being a six year old, but I'm so giddy right now about my impending date with the man of my dreams I decide not to care. Since she wants to act like a six year old, I'm going to retaliate the way I did when she was that age. I plan to tickle attack her as soon as I'm off the phone.

Warrick coughs a bit and then says in a low voice that only I can hear. "Well I was thinking we'd go a little slower than all that Cath, but if you wanna jump right into the sack I could be convinced to go along with it."

"Warrick Brown!" I chide loudly, "That is not what my teenage daughter was insinuating."

He laughs cheerfully "Oh I know, but you can't blame a guy for trying."

I'm grinning so widely my cheeks hurt. While I know Warrick would never take advantage of me like that, it's nice to know that he seems to want what I want eventually. "Well, we'll just have to see what happens." I tell him, eying my very sneaky teenage daughter. We wrap up the conversation and say our goodbyes. I then slam the phone down on Lindsey's desk, and she starts cracking up, knowing how humorfully mad I am at her right now. While I hate her for doing that to me, it's exactly what I needed.

"You can't be mad at me for saying what you were thinking!" She puts her hands up in defense and begins to back up, seeing me approaching her stealthily.

"That's where it was supposed to stay! In my thoughts!" I point out, though of course she already knows this. I reach out a deliver the first of many tickles, right under her jaw line where I know she's very ticklish. She screams a little in delight and pushes my hand away.

"Okay, I was wrong, but I think you got the response you wanted! Am I right?" I smile at her and grab at her sides now, not giving her a response. In the next few moments, she becomes a ball of giggling, squirming girl on her bed, trying to dodge my next move, but failing miserably.

After tiring both of us out with the tickle fight from hell, that ended with me being pinned to the bed and laughing uncontrollably with my daughter at the advantage. We lay there in her bed a while, and contemplate the posters she has on the ceiling above us, after we've discussed all the singers, actors, and models above us we talk for a while more about other things. For the first time in years she just talked to me about things. I am finally starting to understand this whole Chad thing, even though I don't like it. The kid is a legal adult after all. But, she says that he's bright and charming, and from the stories she's told me, I sort of believe that he cares for her. Not that I'm going to welcome him and start calling him my son or anything, I'm still going to be wary of him, until I get to know him a bit better. After a while Lindsey receives an IM and we watch the little window flash orange for a while before I decide to go down stairs and finish the dishes that I'd started earlier.

Once I've finished doing the dishes I wander back up stairs. I'm going to peek my head into Lindsey's room, say goodnight to her, and maybe grab the copy of _Gone With the Wind _that I let her borrow to read about a month ago. I look into the room and I see her laptop laying on its back in her bed where it had flopped from her lap when she'd fallen asleep. Her blue eyes are hidden by eyelids that are already starting to wiggle around from REM sleep. I pick up the computer and close everything out, then place it on her desk. I leave a note saying that she can be an hour late for school in the morning if she needs to finish any homework taped to the top of it. When I lean down to reposition my daughter and tuck her in, I see the glint of white gold on her neck. It's the necklace Warrick gave her when she was younger. I don't think anything would have made me happier than seeing this. My daughter still cares about the man I think I very well could, and may, love with all of my heart.

I leave the room gently, after placing a kiss on my baby girl's head and slip out of the room quietly. I push into my own bedroom and lay on my bed and flop my cell phone onto the other side of the bed beside me. I try opening the book I just stole back from my only progeny and reading for a while, but no matter how much I love the novel I just can't focus. I close the book and snatch my cellular into my hand quickly. I flip through my speed dial list and as I'm about to call Warrick I stop and try to figure out why I want to call him so badly. I know why though. I want to say goodnight to him. I feel like I won't ever sleep again if I don't hear his voice wishing me sweet dreams and the tantalizing subtext of his deep tone telling me that he cares about me. I know, however, that whatever we have is way too new for me to be calling him for such a silly reason so I opt not to. I simply type the single word in a text message and press 'send.'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N 1: Thanks again for the reviews. We got a little sidetracked making up another story, but we have definitely not forgotten about this! Please let us know what you think! -Bauerfreak **

**A/N 2: Hey everyone. I'm very sorry to have taken so long to get this one out. We were talking one evening and our writing time for this story got turned into a whole other story. However I have an undying love for this story, so don't worry about it. You'll always be getting another update from this one. Well, until the end. Please keep reading.**

**This is our previously promised Nicky chapter. We know we've been neglecting him a little bit, but we had groundwork to lay... you know how that goes. I promise that he's more than likely going to be permanently in the rotation for points of view for this one. **

**Anyway I really just wanted to say sorry that this one took so long to get out. I know that I pretty much suck for not updating for so long. But... this is one of the longer chapters so hopefully that makes up for it. **

**And... reviews make my heart happy. So, please, be kind enough to review. It'll make my whole CSI-less night a whole bunch better! -LLK**

_Symphony of Change_

_Chapter 6._

I've been trying to head over to the hospital to visit Sara about every other day or so, which is around the same that everyone else is. Well, besides Grissom. I still can't believe that he actually asked me what I thought about asking Sara to marry him. I mean, if the guy feels that way, I guess it's a logical next step. I'm not sure how Sara feels about it. But after a couple days of contemplating this, I still can't shake the feeling that it's just...wrong. You know that feeling? Kind of like if you were to try to pair Chyna the wrestler with Mr. Brady - it just doesn't feel quite right. They're not quite as polar opposites as those two, but it makes my stomach upturn to think about Sara - beautiful Sara - ending up with this older guy. And he's her boss nonetheless, and used to be her teacher. Obviously they're both consenting adults, but I wonder if Sara feels weird being attracted to a former professor. I let out a guttural sigh as I slow to make a left turn in my truck.

Why am I even thinking about this so much? It's not like it concerns me or anything. Maybe if I was that Alex guy, I would be worrying, being her husband and all. I've seen those two interact, though, and they sure don't seem married. Good friends, yes, but not in love. And for the life of me, I can't tell if Sara is in love with Grissom.

I've had just as long to adjust to the idea of the two of the together as anyone else on our team but I just can't get used to the idea. I've even had more time, in a way, because back when he wasn't paying her any attention at all she and I used to go out on the weekends and she'd talk about how she just didn't understand why she wasn't good enough for him. I didn't understand it either. Then, finally, the signs that Grissom had met someone started to pour in, and Sara became more and more unavailable to me as a friend. I started picking up on the little clues, but for some reason this time I didn't want to follow the evidence. I just ignored it. When I was thinking about it, which was a lot more often than I probably should have, I decided that their happiness together was what was most important. But, the idea of her getting married to a man that she's had a crush on for a decade and a half seems stupid, and that's all it is right? A crush?

I've brought something for Sara almost every time I've come to visit. Usually I bring books, but whatever I have in my hands varies from time to time. I brought her my portable DVD player so she can watch movies, so sometimes I bring her an old flick or two that I know she'll like, even though Warrick is the one that has a taste in movies that most closely matches hers. Thus, usually, I bring books. My sister Becky, she's the second youngest, has the same taste as Sara in books so I usually call her on my way to Sara's and stop off at McGuire's Books to pick up whatever new novel Becky says she might like. Lately, though, I've been doing a lot better at personalizing my little gifts for her, so I decide not to call my sister, I'll talk to her later.

I could take the easy way out and buy her a forensics magazine, which I know she'll gobble up and get excited over. If I know Sara like I think I do, she's still going crazy about not being able to work. Any taste of work excites her and gets her going, her sharp mind wanting to tackle anything other than "The View" and "Days of Our Lives". However, I don't know if it would send the wrong message. I don't want her rushing back to work when she's not ready. She's already stubborn enough as it is. If she finds out about some new technique or gizmo introduced in a magazine, she'll push herself to get back to work earlier than she needs. She'll stress herself out, work through her pain without slowing down, and it'll take so much longer for her to get better.

No, a forensics magazine definitely won't do. There's a gift shop on the ground level of the hospital, where hopefully I'll find something that matches this odd palate of feelings I have for my coworker. I miss her at work, but in a different way than some of the others, I think. Sara and I have always had a friendly relationship, rich with bantering and teasing, almost like she's one of the guys. I like to bust her chops, and she busts mine right back. But I've been missing more than just that, I've realized, but I can't quite put my finger on it. And like the investigator I am, I can't stand it. She's truly one of my best friends, but I don't think of her romantically really. How in hell am I gonna find a gift that'll express that?

I decided about a month ago that I wanted to get her tickets to see Wicked the musical down in Los Angeles. I know that I can't be sure if she's going to like Wicked as much as she loved the _Wizard of Oz_ as a child, but I already took the chance. She did call me last night, to tell me that she finished the book and thought it was one of the most beautiful stories she's ever read, so I think that I made a safe purchase with my money. Since I ordered the tickets a few days ago, I had the insight to buy three tickets so she can take Ryan, and probably Grissom with her. There's a small thrift store that I know about on Chestnut Street that I decided to stop in, on my way. I know that the tickets, all six hundred dollars worth of them, will be a great gift but I just want to do something with the presentation. I know it's not exactly the most manly thing in the world to know where a decent thrift store is, but I do have five sisters after all. I found the place with Mary when she was here on her last visit. I take the few turns and pull up in the parking lot.

It takes ten or fifteen minutes of perusal on the shelves I spot the perfect thing. It's a music box with a cover that looks like a slightly topographical map of the land of Oz. When it's opened you see the figures of Glinda and the Wicked Witch in the center with a host of other character dancing around them, the background features a silhouette of Dorothy. The song it plays, I know from spending time with my nieces over Christmas, is "For Good" the final song from the musical.

I snatch the music box up, and hand the cashier the five dollars to cover the cost - practically free compared to the $200 tickets they'll hold. I smile as I make my way back to the truck and sift through my wallet on the way, knowing that Sara will absolutely love my gift. Is it normal that I find so much joy bringing even an inkling of happiness and hope into her day? Lord knows she must get so bored and disheartened, sitting in that hospital room all day long. I know I did, when I had a prolonged stay after the events that unfolded a couple years ago now.

I find the three tickets, which I've tucked away safely in my wallet and stare at them proudly as I turn the ignition, particularly that $200 price tag on the stub of each of them. My heart suddenly drops, realizing that Sara will see the price on her ticket. Two hundred dollars? That's the amount of money a parent might spend on a child, or a boyfriend might splurge on his girl for an anniversary, but a friend on a friend? Will she think it's too much? I clear my throat and place the three tickets inside the slightly worn music box - it's a comfortable wear, like its last owner has loved it well. I'm almost sure that she'll find the box just as wonderful as the tickets themselves.

About ten minutes later, I pull into the garage next to the hospital and find a spot. I pick up my pace a little, mostly because I can't wait to give Sara her gift, but I don't want to appear over-zealous. My feet take me along the familiar path towards the elevator, up to her floor, and finally to her room. As always, I hear a faint hum of a voice from outside her doorway. There's always someone there with her, whether it's Grissom, Alex, Ryan, or someone from the team. I knock politely as I step into the doorway to find Sara looking quite fragile and bored. Alexander is sitting in one of the chairs next to Ryan, and appears to be helping him with some school work.

I haven't exactly met Ryan and Alexander yet, but I do know that they have the habit of being here all the time. It was easy for me to decide which of the people occupying Sara's room was her son, and which was her husband. I smile and walk into the room, where I trigger Alexander to stop quizzing Ryan as he prepares for some test, and everyone looks up at me. Ryan stands and extends a hand for me to shake. I oblige quickly and then walk past him to wrap Sara up in a hug for greeting. Something about the grin I see on her face, excitement to see me, makes me feel like I should squeeze her as tightly as I possibly can. The deep hug must have been exactly what she wanted because before I have time to pull away she whispers in my ear that she missed me. I haven't been here in a week, but the sensation of knowing that Sara actually missed me does something to my mind that I can't quite conceive. I pull away from her gingerly, allowing the secret that passed from her lips to my ears to remain private.

I can see a little twinkle her eye as I pull up a chair next to her bedside. It feels nice to feel wanted. The fact that she missed me makes me feel like a little kid being praised. I feel like I'd do anything to keep pleasing this woman before me. Anything I could do for her I would without hesitation. She deserves that.

"How are things going?" I ask before I can stop myself. It's a standard greeting, but in this situation not quite appropriate. Things don't change so much from day to day, and I feel like maybe I've reminded her of her situation, and what happened to her by this simple question. She sighs, preparing herself to robotically answer it with a 'The doctors say I'm improving' or 'I'm feeling a bit better', when I stop her.

"Sorry. That was lame." I tell her, and she offers me a little smile in agreement. I really want to ask her about Grissom, and about if he's proposed to her yet. She sure isn't acting like someone's just proposed to her. I see her eye wandering to the box I have in my hand, which is hard to hide.

"I brought you something." I announce with a childish amount of promising foreshadowing. Sara smiles, her little gap showing momentarily as she waits.

"You're just full of surprises." She tells me as she shakes her head.

She reaches out to take the box from me and a glint from her left hand tears my eyes from her jubilant face and commands my attention. Grissom must have already proposed because she's wearing an engagement ring. Moreover a rather tasteless engagement ring, did Grissom actually think that Sara would be bought off with a gaudy fake diamond set in such an elaborately overdone orangey-gold band? I feel sick. I don't know why, but it's this overpowering feeling like I want to vomit that has filled my stomach. I'm tempted to ask her what the hell she was thinking when she begins to open the box. I see her brown eyes glow like the ring she deserves would and I decide not to think about anything but taking in the look in her face when she sees what's inside.

Her mouth gapes adorably, and her lips soon take on the form of a full-out Sara Sidle smile. Her eyes and her whole face glows as she picks up the three pieces of paper inside. I know the $600 is well-spent when she looks at me a moment later - her eyes are full of such love and appreciation.

"Nick!" She exclaims like a bubbly teenager who's just been invited to the prom. "Oh my God! What the hell?" She asks in true Sara-ness.

I have to chuckle at her excitement and expression - it warms my heart to see her smiling and know I'm responsible for it.

"It's three tickets for The Wicked in LA." I explain, as if she can't read, but also for the other two men in the room who are wondering what has Sara so excited. "They're open tickets, so you can go whenever you decide." I'm cut off when Sara throws her arms around me, not at all shy this time to show her emotion.

"Nick, this is so great!" She exclaims, still holding on to me. I rub my hand up and down her back and notice footsteps behind me. Not that I'm going overboard, but I pull away and place a single quick kiss to her forehead - something I do on occasion. Alex comes around to the other side of the bed, smiling a little, wondering what has Sara so excited. She thrusts the tickets into his hand.

Sara suddenly realizes that even though I introduced myself quickly to her son, I haven't been formally introduced to Alexander and Ryan. Sara pushes me away from her. I can tell it's because she remembered the ring on her finger. She looks at Alexander, and closes a hand gently around his.

"This is Nick," she tells him. "He's the one who brings me books all the time, I'd go insane without him. He's a dear friend."

"I'm Alexander." The man extends a hand in greeting, "Sara's uh... well... I'm not sure anymore."

Sara tickle-grabs him in the stomach and smirks. I'm sure she's just as confused, being proposed to by Grissom, but being married to another man. And how the hell is Alexander coping with this? Talk about being overthrown. I extend my hand across the white sheet, under which lies the woman we both care about.

"Nice to meet you." We exchange a firm shake. I then get introduced to Ryan, who must be having a bit of an off day, because he's not all that talkative and looks kind of annoyed - probably from being quizzed nonstop on whatever he's studying. He offers an unexcited hello and then lets his head rest against the back of the chair. Poor kid, having to be away from home for so long, and to live the rest of the time away from his own mother. Alexander must be pretty strict with the kid, because he clears his throat and shoots Ryan a bit of a look. Ryan sighs and sits up straighter, going back to his studying.

"I loooove The Wizard of Oz, Nick. This is perfect." She oozes, reading the ticket over again.

"How could I forget?" I ask and flash her a happy grin.

She's smiling and I guess that's more than I could really ask. I haven't had the chance to see her smile this way in a long time, not since before the whole incident. I feel a great deal of pleasure knowing that I'm at least partly responsible for making that smile return.

Alexander takes me aside, before I've been there too long and asks me a favor. Apparently he hasn't had the chance to ask any of Sara's other friends because Grissom is the one that's usually here, or Catherine and she just seems too occupied with her daughter. He tells me that he'd like to go and pick up a few things in the interest of cutting the expenses of staying long term in Vegas

and he tells me that he's wondering if I wouldn't mind giving him a ride to a few stores. He wants a portable refrigerator, some groceries, some clothing items for Ryan, and maybe an X-box or

Playstation for the kid. As much as I want to spend time with Sara I agree that we can socialize a bit longer with her in her room and then that I'd be glad to help him out.

I follow Alex back into the room, and see him wander over to Ryan to have a few words with him. That gives me a chance to have a little more one on one time with Sara. The sunlight is shining through the window just by her bed, and I can't remember the last time she looked so beautiful. She seems to be getting more hope back lately, though it comes and goes. As I come close to her bed, she starts singing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow', in her adorable, slightly off-key voice. I grin at her as I sit next to her once again.

"I would tell you how awful your voice is, but my mother taught me not to make fun of invalids." I tease her, receiving a surprisingly hard punch in the bicep.

"You used to tell me I had a nice voice." She counters my insult, and I know just what she's talking about. Sara sings randomly working on cases, something she says she can't control, and honestly she does have a pretty good voice, but, as I said, we like to bust each other's chops.

"I'm teasin'." I assure her, and we both overhear Alex and Ryan's exchange just a few feet away.

"Ryan having a tough time?" I ask softly, because neither of the men sound too happy as they're talking. Sara nods and twirls her engagement ring around on her finger slightly.

"I think he's just bored. I don't blame him. Alex just wants to make sure he's getting his work done."

There are things I'm feeling right now. Things that have all taken ablaze in the last few days, since Grissom mentioned that he might propose to her. Listening to her sing, seeing her with a child, her child, watching her smile. These things weren't right, she was someone's fiancé now after all.

I decide, in hopes that I can sway my mind from the inappropriate places it was taking me, to let Sara tell me about her son and his accomplishments for the remainder of our time together. I can tell that the life she left behind in California was beautiful, she was a mother and a wife to two people that she couldn't possibly love any more. How could Alexander let someone like her go? And why would she run away to someone so undeserving of her love as Grissom? Not that it's my place to say who she should be with and who she shouldn't, she's only my friend, right?

Alexander wanders over eventually, after smoothing things over with Ryan, apparently. The man must be a good father, because Ryan's demeanor has changed drastically now. His features seemed to have lightened, and he looks set now to continue with his work and hang out with his mom, as I'm sure Alexander has explained. Alexander leans down and presses a tender kiss to Sara's cheek, much like I did earlier on her forehead. Somehow it doesn't surprise me that so many men seem to adore Sara. She's got two guys who want to be called her husband, and I know

Warrick and I sure care about her deeply.

"Nick agreed to take me around town for a while to run a few errands." Alex tells her in a bit of a murmur. Sara nods and glances at me, smiling.

"Well, that's very nice of him, to take you on a date." She teases some more.

"Ha ha." Alex gives her a playful glare. "Ryan's sticking around to tackle some more geometry."

Sara nods affirmatively and smiled up at her husband and then at me. I can't help but observe that she kind of looks at us the same, but I can't quite put my finger on what that means. It's probably just all the boredom of being in the hospital, her being all excited to see me, and the way she's smiling at me. Right now I can't believe I've never much paid attention to the way she smiles at 'just friends.' Then again, if that's the 'just friends' smile, why is she looking at Alexander that way? Even if they had just started out as deer friends, wouldn't that relationship evolve over sixteen years? So, that means that in the eight years of our friendship we've developed a deep bond right? I guess I can't deny we have a bond, but it's not fair of me to be questioning feelings right now. Sara is getting married, so whatever's confusing me, and whatever I think I see, or I want to see behind her eyes... that's going to have to be my little secret.

"Have fun, you two." She wishes us as she gives Alexander's hand a tender squeeze. I have the sudden urge to touch Sara, because through this ordeal and through my nightmare also, I've learned to show the people you care about that you love them. I settle for a friendly rub on her forearm. She puts her hand over mine and gives me another gap-toothed smile that always warms my heart.

"Don't go running off anywhere." I tell her, feeling a smile forming on my face. That's me and Sara's relationship to a T – giving each other a hard time playfully. She gives me a playful punch to my arm as I walk away, chuckling.

I lead the way down the hall, and hold the elevator open to let Alexander enter before me. It's a politeness that men don't usually share with each other, but the two of us already have something in common, a deep caring for Sara. Besides, I assume that not many of the people he's met since he has been here have tried to be very nice to him. So, in an attempt to make think that Sara hasn't taken up with a group of egotistical jerks, I decide to give the whole welcoming thing a try. We're standing in the elevator, and I'm looking at the numbered buttons as the lights click down. Though I want to be welcoming, it's hard for me to dredge up warm feelings towards him. I've decided, to let him break the ice and be the first one to speak. Too bad I think he might have made the same decision about me.

It's hard to say who exactly is the "host". We're at a hospital – not exactly anyone's turf. Sure, I live in Las Vegas, but Alexander has practically taken up home in that hospital room. I decide, after almost fifteen seconds of silence, to break it, since he is the one in town visiting, and I'm the Vegas resident.

"Sara's doing better, don't you think?" I strike up the conversation about the one thing I know we have in common. Alex's face forms a smile and he nods affirmatively.

"Yeah, I'm so glad there's finally an end in sight to her hospital stay. It's been rough on her, being all cooped up." I can tell that Alexander knows her as well as anyone close to her. Sara's not the type to just sit around being a victim. It seems like she's really perked up, knowing that soon she'll be out of that mini-prison of a hospital bed, and back to a normal life.

The elevator dings and the door opens to the first floor. I lead the way out, and we fall into a comfortable side-by-side stride. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll be glad to get back to work."

Alexander chuckles a little, and I can tell it's not out of happiness. "Well, between us, I'm glad she's been away from work for a while. What you guys do is so dangerous. I worry about her all the time."

I nod in understanding, wondering how this guy can live in another state, while his wife with a dangerous job lives alone in one of the most unsafe cities in the country.

"I'd like to tell you that our job is pretty safe, which I guess compared to being a patrol officer it is, but the truth is we've had some pretty terrible things happen to CSI's over the years." I assume that Sara has been pretty open with him about our work life, even though I don't know how accurate the assumption is. "But... I don't think that any of us would trade our jobs in for the world. It's really satisfying work."

"Sara tells me about a lot of the cases, especially the ones that really get to her." Alexander tells me, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I want to tell her to stop, to leave CSI and get another job, but I know that helping people that way makes her happy."

Alexander really was a wise man when it came to Sara. He knew that Sara's life was her work. She got a deep satisfaction about speaking for the victim and solving cases. It was her calling in life, and she was truly great at her job. But if it was my wife seeing and doing the kinds of things I do every day, I don't know if I could handle it. I suddenly feel myself having deep respect for Alexander, the way he can take a step back and let Sara live the way she wants, even if it causes a lot of hurt and worry for him.

"Well, she really is one of our best CSI's. She shows me up all the time." I tell him honestly as I use the clicker to unlock my truck in the garage. We both climb into the truck and I start up the ignition.

"I just hope she'll be more careful from now on. You do have the woman who did that to her locked away, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Caught her later on that evening. She'll be locked up for a long time." I assure him. I know that all the CSI's, Grissom especially, will be damn sure we get Natalie the harshest sentence possible. You don't come after one of our own and get off easy. I clear my throat, and try to change the conversation to something more pleasant.

"So, you wanna go to the grocery store and then where else?"

"Well, I'd like to pick Rye up a few more pairs of jeans and shirts, you know?" He tells me, "We've been here a while longer than we expected and I think he'd be more comfortable in something he hasn't worn every day for a while."

"Ahh, well we could go to a Target, they have clothes and some food, and a few other necessities there" I tell him. I can tell by the way he and his son dress and carry themselves that neither of them have probably ever stepped foot into a target, or any other form of department store. "Or, if you'd be more comfortable, there's a mall on the other side of town. There's more variety there."

"Oh, well whatever's easier is fine. I just want to make sure he's set, I have court in three days and I'll have to go back home for about a week."

Man, this guy is a saint. I have a few friends who have kids of their own, but this guy seems to take it to a whole other level. I can tell how much he loves his kid, and that it tears him up he has to live without his mom. If there were more fathers in the world like this guy, I wouldn't have a job, which I think in that case, I wouldn't mind so much.

"Well, he seems to be a really well adjusted kid." I tell him honestly. "I know quite a few teenagers, and none of them are as well-behaved as Ryan. And he seems really happy."

Well, Lindsey is my main comparison here. And no offense to Cath, but she can be a bit of a hellion at times. Ryan seems to be a saint in comparison to Lindsey's ways.

"Thanks, Nick. He's a pretty good kid, I think, but of course he has his moments. Do you have children?"

God knows how much I wish I did. I see guys my age with their kids – some even have teenagers – and I can't help but wonder what it's like to have someone love you and completely depend on you the way a kid does. When I see families together, I wonder if I'll ever get to that point; if I'll ever meet someone I want to have kids with. I desperately want a family, but the right woman just hasn't come along for me yet, and through it all, I can't help but wonder if my chance of becoming a father is dwindling away with each passing day.

Not having kids sometimes really sucks. I have five sisters and a brother, all of which are married, and the only one without kids already, Julia, just told me that she's officially pregnant again. This will be her second attempt at a child, unfortunately she miscarried her first. I'm pretty sure that she's not telling our parents until Thanksgiving, but still, I'm the last of seven brothers and sisters, and I'm not even in a relationship, let alone married and expecting a child. Having sixteen nieces and nephews is nice sometimes. You can always take the kids back to their parents when they are being bad, but I wouldn't mind a troublemaker so much, as long as he or she was my little troublemaker.

I know, well I have a pretty good idea, that this is an absolutely terrible suggestion. Grissom certainly should be the one to make the offer, but I decide to go for it.

"I don't know what you plans are, but Ryan's welcome to stay at my place until you get back from California, if you and Sara want."

Alexander glances over at me, I sense a bit surprisingly, at my offer. "That's awfully nice of you." He tells me as I drive towards the mall. "I wouldn't want to impose on you, though." Alex says politely.

"No, it's not a problem at all." I assure him. "I have a spare bedroom in my apartment, and it's in a good neighborhood. He could come to the lab with me if he'd like, or he can just hang out at my place and do homework."

"Wow, that's quite an offer." He runs a hand over his hair in thought. True, he doesn't know me very well, but I think he can tell that Sara trusts me implicitly. I truly think that Ryan won't be a problem at all, the way he behaves in public. And it'll only be a few days; it's not like I'm adopting the kid.

"Please don't feel like you'd be imposing. Really. I enjoy having a little company every once in a while." It'll sure be interesting living with a teenager for a few days, if Alexander accepts, which I think he will.

"Well, God knows I'd like to accept." He says to me with a laugh. "But, I should probably talk to Sara about it first. I think she was hoping that he'd stay with Grissom for a few days, you know, because of the engagement and all. He will be Ryan's step father."

He is obviously trying to have a good sense of humor about the whole concept of Grissom and Sara getting married, but I can tell that he, like me, feels more than a little uncomfortable with the idea. I couldn't imagine losing my wife, or any woman like Sara, to a man and then having to share my child with him.

I nod. This was precisely what I was thinking he'd say. I decide just to leave one more word of offering out there and then let the issue alone "Well, he's more than welcome."

"Yeah, well believe me, I want to take you up on the offer but... I just don't know if it would be appropriate." he tells me. I've heard rumors about this family's obsession with politeness and proper public form, but I just don't know how they do it.

I turn into the mall parking lot, and Alex and I fall into a comfortable silence as I search for a parking spot. I pull into an open spot and the two of us head into the building. I've had to buy enough Christmas and birthday presents for my nieces and nephews to know where all the stores teens like to shop at are. One of my nieces once gave me a mini-tutorial on where was okay to shop for teenagers. So, the educated shopper that I was, I led Alexander into American Eagle first.

I'm surprised at how easily I seem to get along with Alexander. We're not just sharing small talk, as I find out that he's also a Dallas Cowboys fan, and that he has family in Texas. I can't shake the feeling that I actually like the guy, and think we could be good friends if we lived in the same town. We spend about forty-five minutes at the mall, and after trips into Hollister, Abercrombie, and PacSun, we head back to my truck.

We breeze through the rest of the errands and on our way out of the last store, an upper scale grocery store, Alexander sees a flower display. He grabs a bouquet of white roses, and asks the clerk behind the florist stand to wrap them up in green and silver tissue paper. He gives the lady a nod and a twenty dollar bill, and without waiting for change greets me at the sliding glass doors at the front of the building. I laugh at him a little bit. Sara Sidle is going to be spoiled by the way all of the men in her life dote upon her.

"Man, she gets more gifts than a rich kid at Christmas." I say to him with a laugh. "I mean, her room is littered with gifts from the men in her life, Warrick brings her movies and he got her that bear. Grissom and all of those flowers. I bring her books. Greg, I don't know if you've met him or not, but he brings her chocolates and food. And now you... and roses."

"She's lucky that she's got so many people around here that care about her." He says, deciding to be grateful and not jealous. We're back in the car and on our way back towards the hospital as we finish the conversation. "I think I'll sleep a lot better now, now that I know how great Sara has it here, and how much her friends care about her."

"She's got a lot of people in her corner," I say, turning down the last street before the hospital. "But that doesn't change anything, what happened to her... It should never have happened."

"Well, I'm just glad she has good people around her. Thanks for being there for her." He tells me as I turn into the garage.

"My pleasure." I reply. Nothing makes me feel better than helping other people, especially people I care deeply about like Sara. It's just not in me to let Sara suffer without trying to help her, just like she helped me after my ordeal. Sara knows I'm there if she needs me, whether it's just hanging out and talking, or sneaking her in a bar of chocolate.

Soon, we're back in the hospital room with Sara and Ryan, who has since finished his geometry homework. He rolls his eyes a bit when he sees the labeled bags. I get the sense that Ryan doesn't like his father shopping for him, but like most guys, I doubt he really likes shopping trips.

"Oh, God. You bought me clothes?" Ryan plopped the novel he was now reading while his father set the bags down on the floor. Alexander took out a pair of pants he'd found at Hollister and unfolded them, holding them out for his son's approval.

"Not bad." Ryan nodded in approval as he stood to check out what was in the other bags.

"Are you gonna show us?" Sara asked her son. Ryan gives his mother a look. "Do I look like a girl to you?"

I'm about to make some sort of comment to the teen about how I think his father did a pretty okay job picking out clothes when I hear the familiar ring of Sara's cell phone. It had taken the efforts of almost all of Sara's friends for her to manage to keep her cell phone in the hospital room. The three men in Sara's room listened to her speak to the caller for a few minutes before she told the person on the other end of the line that she'd talk to Ryan about it, whatever it was, and call back in a few minutes. With a quick thank you she said goodbye and snapped her phone closed.

She then turned and gave Ryan a half grin. She knew that she'd be in hot water with her son if she didn't start explaining right away. "That was Catherine, you remember her right babe? Well her daughter said that there's a party tonight, she thought you might want to come."

Ryan reaches up and smoothes some of his hair down, as if suddenly afraid that he isn't presentable at the mere mention of a girl his age. The poor kid has probably been so cut off from people his age he doesn't know how to relate to them any more. I can't tell right away if he's happy about this or not. His mother just kind of made a play date with him. However, she had also made an effort to get him out of the hospital and have some sort of a social life.

"That'd be cool." He tells his mother, nodding. "What's she like?"

Sara looks at me with a sort of amused expression, knowing she'll relate to how she's feeling. How to describe Lindsey? She's probably just like her mother was at that age – always worrying her parents to death, flirty, sometimes talked back. But of course other times she was perfectly pleasant, like the little girl who used to come into the lab with Catherine, smiling and bright-eyed.

"Well, you've met Catherine. She's got the same hair and looks. Takes ballet. She's pretty popular at school, I think, so she probably knows some more people you can hang out with while you're here. Very friendly."

Not too friendly, I hope. Lindsey's very into the flavor of the week, and hope that she won't treat Ryan that way. He's too good of a kid to be blown off later by someone like Lindsey; to be used. And while I care about Lindsey, I can't help but feel like giving her a little phone call to warn her to handle Ryan with care. Surely, Catherine has already told her about what's going on in Ryan's life.

"Popular." Ryan says in response to my description and then rolls his eyes. He looks as though he might be sick, and I'm forced to gather that he doesn't co-mingle very well with the more popular crowd "She's not a cheer leader is she?"

"Nah, nothing like that." I assure the kid as Sara and I both try to stifle a laugh at the thought of Lindsey cheer-leading. She's popular in the sense that she's always getting invited to parties and stuff. The truth is, she couldn't be less school oriented unless she didn't actually go. I haven't known that child to do a single extra-curricular activities sponsored by the school since she roped Warrick and I into chaperoning her fourth grade camping trip. The ballet is something she started when she was so small I'm not sure I ever remember a time when she wasn't doing it but she makes sure to tell anyone who makes the confusion that it is absolutely not a school related group.

"Babe, she's really down to earth. She makes a lot of friends and knows just about everybody in the town, sometimes even I'm surprised by how many people she knows," Sara jumps in, saving me from my complete failure in describing my 'niece.' "Trust me sweetie, I think you'll really like her. She's got a lot more in common than you'd think. She likes to read, she's great at math, she's really interested in science. She's just... a little less willing to show that side of herself to just anyone."

Ryan looks back and forth between Sara and I suspiciously, looking a bit worried. "You guys are talking like there's something you're covering up. She's not crazy or anything is she?"

I clear my throat in amusement and look over at Sara, who looks just as amused. It's not that she's a bad kid…it's just that she's a free spirit. After knowing Ryan for an abbreviated amount of time, I can sense that he's not into that type of girl, but at a time like this – when he's been uprooted from all he's known – he's a bit desperate for anyone to call a friend.

No, Ryan." Sara chuckled in response, but Ryan doesn't look that relieved yet. "She's just very energetic; very free-spirited." When Sara sees that her son still isn't convinced she shakes her head at him in amusement.

"We're not asking you to marry her, Ryan. We just thought you might like to get out with someone your age."

Ryan nods and looks at me, surprisingly, for more reassurance. I give him a smile. "She's a nice kid, Rye. But if you feel like leaving, you can always give me a call and I'll pick you up." I offer him.

The teenager takes all this information into consideration and thinks for a few moments, then turns to his mother. "Okay, mom. I guess I'll go."

Sara smiles, seemingly glad that Ryan is agreeing to a little social time. "Great! I'll call Catherine."

"Hey Sar," I say to her with an overly exaggerated whisper as she puts the phone to the ear. I know I'm making those overly foolish hand gestures that people always make when they are talking to someone who is on the phone. "Tell Catherine that I don't mind dropping him off, if it's easier for her."

Sara gives me some sort of nod, whispers the word great, smiles at me, and gives me a thumbs up. I assume this is code for she received the message and she'll transfer it as soon as she can. The display was so funny that she has Ryan, Alexander, and I laughing through gritted teeth.

While Sara is on the phone, trying to locate Catherine, I watch Ryan move across the room and lean towards his father and ask a question. From the way he's pointing at his head and the clothing bag across the room from him, I assume that it's some sort of request for a shower. My suspicions are confirmed when Alexander walks over to me and tells me quietly that he and Ryan are going back to the hotel to have a quick dinner and so Ryan can wash up. He tells me, also, that he'd like it if I'd have Sara call him with a time to meet back at he hospital so I can give Ryan a ride. I nod in understanding and wave them out of the room.

I'm left with the revelation that I'm now alone in the room with Sara. Well, alone with a large array of flowers, balloons, chocolate, and books, that is. I turn from where I'm sitting next to her high hospital bed and smirk at one of my best friends. She mirrors my expression, something that she couldn't bring herself to do not long ago.

"I can't believe I had to convince my own son to go out with a girl." She confesses jokingly as she adjusts herself a bit on the surely uncomfortable mattress. As a reflex of my upbringing, I assist her the best I can, fluffing up her pillow and making sure it's in just the right spot behind her back as I answer her.

"Well, I don't blame him for being suspicious, the way we were describing Lindsey."

Sara lets out a bit of a dry laugh. "Well, I don't think I'd even want them dating, no offense to Catherine, but going out a few times while Ryan's here won't hurt."

I nod and find myself just staring at her face. I've seen her face so many times, but lately, I think because we almost lost her, I've been trying to notice the little things I love about Sara. Like that tiny gap between her perfectly white teeth; the way her eyebrow quirks up when she's confused, and how she frowns when she's deep in thought.

Having five sisters, I know what kinds of things my devotion to memorizing her face implies. Becky and Mary, the two sisters I talk to most often, have been teasing me for years about my crush on my co-worker. I've denied it implicitly, of course, for just as many years. Greg was the one with the crush on Sara, this has always been my argument, as though it's a strong one. That, and the fact that while Greg was the one with the crush, Grissom was the one with her heart. Well, Greg's crush fizzled into deep admiration and a quirky friendship years ago and I'm starting to questions the power that Grissom holds over her. So, do I have a crush on Sara Sidle? How in the hell should I know? If you ask my sisters, yes. If you asked Greg, what I feel for her is probably some sort of deep friendship. Asking me, however, is absolutely useless because I don't have a clue.

I just came to the sudden realization that I've been standing over the head of Sara's bed, hands wrapped up in her pillow, looking down at her with a dopey and absent look on my face. Either she's going to start getting the wrong idea, or she's going to think I'm high. I clear my throat and decide to play a cheap card and save face the only way I can think of.

"Uhh sorry... I was... I was thinking about the accident. I'm really glad you're here Sara." It's a bold faced lie, I wasn't thinking about the accident at all, but I find solace in my assumption that she'll believe it.

She gazes right back at me, and I wish I could read her mind right now. Does she ever have fleeting moments like this, when she wonders if she has a crush on me? As she looks at me directly in the eye, I think it just may be possible, but I'm too chicken to do anything about it.

"Yeah. Me too." She whispers after a bit of a pause. "Thanks for hanging out with me. I know it must be boring to watch a bed-ridden workaholic laying around trying not to go crazy."

I chuckle a little at her humor, which she's managed to keep through all of this. "My pleasure." I answer honestly, hoping she isn't being freaked out by my behavior. I know I love Sara as a friend, but I can't shake the feeling today that I have special feelings inside for her; feelings I don't have for other females in my life, like Catherine and Mandy and Wendy. Why are they working their way to the surface now? And do they really mean anything? I mean, how many girls in my life have I had little fleeting crushes on, which turn out to be nothing?

I give her the Texan grin that I discovered a long time ago always has the ability to put a smile on her face big enough to expose that gap in her teeth. Then, realizing that I'm cascading myself into dangerous territory a I step back from her bed side just a few inches, and pull a chair up beneath me. As I sit here I know that I have to get her talking about something, so she doesn't get freaked out by all of this weird attention I suddenly have the desire to give her. So, I ask her what she thinks about the book, _Wicked_, which seems to work to my advantage. She goes into detail about how she loved the passage near the end of the first section, the part about the baby witch and the beast beneath the bridge.

I'm not paying her any attention though. Well, I'm paying her a lot of attention, but not to her words. I'm looking at the edge of her casted arm and where it sits on her body right now. Laying across her abdomen, leading its way dangerously close to her breasts. Crush or not, I realize, if I'm staring at her cleavage while she's laying in a hospital bed, something's going on in my mind. It's weird that I don't notice the arm that I'm watching move, but before I know it she's slipped her fragile hand down and rested it on top of mine where it rests on my leg, she squeezes but doesn't let go.

"Nick." She says to me and I can tell she's about to ask me what's on my mind, but decides not to. Maybe she believed my fib about feeling especially wounded that I might have lost her and she's trying to console me, to show me she's right there. Maybe she just wants to touch me. Maybe could mean a lot of things in this situation, and I don't have any idea as to what.

She doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence because there's a knock at the door, ruining the moment. Sara whips her hand away so fast, that it makes me wonder if the touch of her hand was somehow inappropriate. I mean, we've touched each other on the hand and arm before. It's not like I was groping her. What the hell am I talking about? A moment? I know I'm over-thinking this too much. When I turn around, I realize why Sara snatched her hand back so fast.

Grissom walks in with a fresh bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers to add to the collection. Sara beams at him, her face slightly reddened. I wonder if it's because she thought touching me had gone too far. To be frank, I kind of enjoyed it. I clear my throat and give Grissom a nod and step back as he leans down and plants a kiss on her lips right in front of me. I'm reminded, quite bluntly, that whatever feelings I'm having are in vain. At the end of the day, Sara belongs to Grissom.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, we totally suck big ones for abandoning this story for..meh..four months. What can we say? Life and school got in the way. Here's the next installment from Warrick's pov again. Hopefully, we will start up Cheaper By the Dozen very soon also! Thanks for your patience and please let us know what you thought in a review! **

**We'll update it sooner, we promise.**

**-Bauerfreak and LLK**

_Symphony of Change_

_Chapter 7_

I guess I'm not used to waiting around for women to get ready for an evening out, having been an only child growing up, being raised by my grandmother. Catherine asked me to come over at 6:30, and I arrived on time. It is now…6:47, and we have yet to leave, because Catherine is putting the final touches on her appearance. She'd answered the door, and I thought she looked just fine, but what do I know?

"Mom, do you have any tampons in your bathroom?" Lindsey yells across the hall to her mother, who is also in the process of getting ready for the party with Ryan. The two teenagers were planning on going to a party a couple blocks over.

I clear my throat uncomfortably and find the remote, in case any other choice phrases that may cause me embarrassment scar me for life. I hear the click of Cath's high heels on the hardwood floors of the back hall, scurrying from bathroom to bathroom.

I wonder if I could ever truly get used to living in a house with two women, even if they were the Willows women. I'm pretty damn certain, even this early on in the game, that I love both of them with all of my being. Could I ever live with them though? I'm sitting here watching the cooking channel, because I'm too embarrassed to hear them talk about tampons. Now I got used to living with tampons when I was married to Tina. I even got used to having to pick them up once in a while from the drug store. But the thought of Lindsey, little Lindsey who used to tell me knock-knock jokes when I picked her up from pre-school using tampons is just so weird to me. I mean after the episode in the bushes I'm starting to realize that she's growing up. But I don't like it any more than Catherine does.

I know that I'm getting ahead of myself though. I shouldn't even be thinking about how I'd get used to living with them or what it would be like to be married to Catherine, because that's not happening for a long time, if it even does. The last thing I would want would be to jinx it.

I lean myself back and cross my arms. I know that the television is on and it's supposed to be drowning out the sound of the women here getting ready for their evenings but I can't pay any attention to it. I'm finding myself looking at each and every photograph in this room, studying them, getting to know the faces all over again with each new picture. I could definitely get used to living in a house where I'd get to be surrounded by these beauties day and night. _Not yet_, I tell myself. _I can't start thinking about that yet_.

A few minutes later, Catherine's heels sound again in the hallway, and I hear that she's approaching. I straighten my shirt in case it's somehow gotten jumbled up, wanting to look my best for Catherine after she's gone to so much trouble. She appears, looking slightly frazzled, and goes in to the kitchen to find her cell phone which has been charging at the counter. I don't know how she does it, but she always manages to blow my mind at how sexy she looks. She's wearing this amazing number – the clichéd little black dress - but somehow Catherine makes it all her own. A diamond necklace sparkles around her neck, contrasting her dark dress, which hugs her curves in all the right places. She must've caught me staring as she looks up from fooling around with her phone.

"What?" She smiles, then turns to find the black purse she'll be carrying with her on our dinner date. Before I can answer, the doorbell rings, and we both hear Lindsey groan loudly from the bathroom.

"I'm not READY!" She complains, as if it's Ryan's fault for showing up on time.

Catherine chuckles a little as her high heels clink on the floor again as she makes her way to the door. "Take your time, Linds. Warrick and I are still here."

She answers the door, out of my sight, and greets the probably nervous teenager amicably, complimenting his outfit and how adorable he looks. He should be nervous, going out to a party with Lindsey Willows. I was a teenager once, and know how dramatic bringing another guy to a party can be when you're already going out with someone else. Lindsey has made it clear to both Catherine and I (and I'm sure she will to Ryan too) that this is NOT a date.

I give the kid a nod and a wave as he, and much to my surprise, Nick walk through the door. Nick takes one look at Catherine and then at me and raises and eyebrow far on his head. I mentioned to him at work yesterday that I was taking Catherine out to dinner this weekend. I guess he just didn't expect it to be a date.

"I uh, just wanted to walk him in and make sure you had his dad's cell number," Nick tells Catherine as he passes her his phone so she can read the number off the screen. "He's almost as neurotic as Sara. Made me promise to give it to you."

"Yeah, my dad's a little compulsive about stuff like that," Ryan nervously laughs and moves closer to me. I can tell that he's wanting me to back him up a little. I'm the only other guy at the Willows home that's getting the 'test' tonight. "I don't really blame him though. This is Sin City after all."

While Catherine's taking the number down in her phone Nick gives me a few more winks and nods, his own Stokes code for asking me if this is really what he thinks it is. I signal back that I sure hope it is and that I'll let him know. Then I tell him to quit it before he gets us both into trouble.

"Lindsey's just finishing up in the bathroom," Catherine tells Ryan after she's written down the phone number. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay," He says, clasping his hands in front of him nervously, not sure where to stand, or what to say. I've been in his shoes before, and I know how nervous he must be right now. He barely knows any of us, so I'm sure he's not at ease.

"So, man. What do you know about this party tonight?" I ask, hoping to loosen him up a little by engaging him in conversation.

Ryan clears his throats and adjusts his stance a little. "Well, not much. Just that a lot of Lindsey's friends will be there, and it's chaperoned, of course. And don't worry. We won't be drinking," He adds, almost desperate to make everyone think he's a good kid.

Nick gives the kid a pat on the back smirking. "Well, if you end up needing a ride back here, call me up," he tells Ryan.

I watch the expression on Ryan's face change a little as though he's thinking about what Nick said. "Nah, I'll call my dad if anything happens. But thanks anyway, Nick."

The kid was obviously a little confused as to why Nick was playing the part of his parent when he had a mother, father, and future step-father all in town who could do it for him. To be honest I'm not sure I get it myself. I make a mental note to ask Nick what's going on, but later. Right now all of my focus and energy is on getting alone with Catherine. I shift closer to her as we watch Lindsey finally enter the room. I can tell by the look on her face that we both noticed the four shades redder that Ryan turned as soon as he saw her. Lindsey looks every bit as gorgeous as her mother did wearing a slightly more conservative dress. The red color makes her figure stand out in a way that gives me the desire to send her back up stairs to change into something less revealing.

Lindsey can sense all the eyes in the room on her, but instead of giggling nervously or playing with her hair like any embarrassed teenager would, she seems to flourish in the attention. She turns to her mother and opens her arms for a goodbye hug.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," I hear Catherine whisper to her as she embraces Lindsey in a motherly hug. I can tell by the look in her eyes she can't believe Lindsey is practically an adult and looks like a grown woman. Moreover, I see her eyes sparkling with pride and excitement for her daughter. If she's anything like her mother, which I know she is, Lindsey will be having a thrilling, fun evening, and Catherine knows it. All we adults can hope is that she'll respect herself and be responsible.

As they pull apart, Nick steps forward and gently clasps a hand around Lindsey's forearm and then leans in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm headin' out. You look great, Lindsey. Have a good time."

Lindsey smiles at him and nods. "Thanks, Uncle Nick. We will," She promises him. I get the feeling Nick's sharing the same thoughts I am about Lindsey, wanting to send her back up the stairs to put on some sweats, but it's not our place.

"You guys want a ride to the party?" I offer the kids as I hold my arm out for Catherine to take and begin to step towards the front door. I do have an ulterior motive in offering the kids a ride. If I'm in the car to drop them off I'll get to see what kind of house the party is going to take place at. I'm starting to feel a little foolish being so protective of Lindsey, but I can't help it. It seems like it was just yesterday she was bugging me for piggy back rides.

"No, thanks," Lindsey tells me with a smile. "My boyfriend's going to be here to pick us up in about ten minutes."

I watch Lindsey turn to her mother as she holds up her house key and her cell phone. "If Warrick's any kind of date he's got reservations and you're going to be late for them if you keep hanging out here. I'll lock the house on my way out and I have my phone if I need you. Get out of here."

Catherine and I both laugh at the teen before I shift so that I'm holding her hand and begin pulling her towards the front door. As much as I want to hang out at the house to size this boyfriend up again Lindsey's right. I do have reservations. I'm also feeling my stomach start to twist up a bit. I'm getting nervous.

After a few last kisses and hug, Cath and I are out the front door, leaving the two teenagers behind in the house. I hear the tiniest of sighs from Catherine as we walk towards my car, so I give her hand a gentle squeeze. She feels it, and turns to look at me with a slightly forced smile on her face.

"Quit worrying so much," I tell her lightheartedly as I stop her next to the passenger door. I can tell she has mixed feelings about leaving Lindsey here, without seeing Chad, and with all the unknowns racing through her mind. I feel protective of Lindsey and I'm not even her dad, so I know Catherine worries ten times as much as I do.

Catherine laughs a little to herself and looks down before meeting my eyes again. "I'm her mom. It's my job," she tells me as I open up her door.

"She'll be fine. She's got Ryan with her, and she knows to call if things get out of hand," I tell her, fully believing what I say. There's just something about this Ryan kid that assures me that if Lindsey's with him, she'll be just fine. If you looked up responsible in the dictionary, I'm sure a picture of Ryan would be pasted right there.

As we drive to the restaurant I keep catching myself looking at Catherine, staring at her, and I can't tell if she's noticed. I'm on my way to a date with Catherine Willows and the gravity of that is finally starting to set in. I remember just a few nights ago I was wallowing in my own self pity in a casino, drinking away my loneliness while I thought about her. Now she's sitting in the car next to me, smiling. Somehow I keep getting the feeling that she's as happy about this as I am.

We're about four blocks from Tonio's Italian Bistro when I finally work up the nerve to take my right hand off of the steering wheel and close it around hers. Much to my pleasure I don't feel her pushing me off. Instead she flips over her hand and laces her fingers with mine.

"Cath," I start to say something but all of the compliments that I have floating around in my head seem to get mixed together and the teenage version of myself comes out. All I say is a bunch of unintelligible crap. I'm a college grad, and suddenly I can't seem to form a simple sentence. I'm pleasantly surprised when Catherine doesn't try to snake her hand away, and doesn't try to make a run for it when we pull up to the restaurant and get out.

When we arrive in the restaurant, the waiter seats us promptly at a semi-private booth off in the far side of the restaurant. The table is dimly lit, and a live jazz band is playing softly on the other side of the room. The whole feeling of the restaurant is intimate and romantic. It better be for forty dollars a plate.

I just hope I don't mess up on any of the fine dining rules my grandmother tried to instill in me. Don't order for her. Let her pick the wine. But all I can focus on at the moment is the beauty of the woman sitting across from me peering down at her menu. I admire her beautiful neckline as she tilts her head to the side to look at the food choices, and the way she mindlessly toys with one of her earrings as she thinks. She glances up at me a moment later, catching me staring at her again. Just like Lindsey, she takes it in stride.

"You're staring, Warrick," Catherine points out boldly as her eyes skim over the appetizers. The way she says it so casually, like she's just ordered a drink, takes me back and makes me chuckle to myself. I hope the dim lights are hiding my embarrasment. I clear my throat a little and reach my hand across the table to link with hers again as an offering, hoping she'll forgive me.

To my pleasure she holds my hand again. I feel her thumb play absently at the back of my hand though she doesn't look up at me. I can't help but wonder what she's thinking about or if she's laughing at me on the inside. I'm just so nervous that I'm going to blow it. I've wanted to do this with her for so long.

"I'm thinking about having the Eggplant Parmesan," I tell her absently. "My grandmother used to make an eggplant parmesan that was to die for. The head chef here, Gino, is Grams' best friend's grandson so the recipes are really similar. By the way Gino's going to hook us up with appetizers and wine, so order whatever you want."

I honestly don't know if it's a faux pas to tell the woman you're on a date with that you've got connections at the restaurant or not but knowing that we were friends after all makes me feel better. I relax a bit more as I realize that she already knows me, probably better than I know myself, and she's still here with me.

"And by the way," I finally have the nerve to tell her. "I _was_ staring. You look stunning."

Our eyes meet and she smiles warmly at my compliment. I'm sure she gets told that all the time, on every date she's ever been on, but she doesn't let it show. She looks down a little modestly just as the waiter arrives to take our orders.

Cath orders my suggestion of Eggplant Parmesan, along with a bottle of wine for both of us, and soon the waiter has left to put in our orders. Now with nothing else to focus on, no menus or wine lists, I feel my nerves hitting me again. I'm so afraid I'm going to say something stupid again and she'll realize how amazing she is and call off the date. Seriously – what have I ever done to deserve a date with this gorgeous, amazing woman?

"So," She smiles knowingly, perhaps sensing my nervousness. We talk all the time at work; we've been friends for years; but now that we're alone on our first date, I can't seem to decide on anything suitable to talk about.

"So," I beam at her, clasping one of her hands in both of mine on top of the table. I guess I feel so nervous about talking to her because this is so formal. Hanging out as friends was always casual and laid back, and now that I finally have my chance I'm freezing up. I soon learn that I have nothing to worry about, though, because Miss Catherine Willows is a master of conversation and putting people at ease. Don't get me wrong – she can put you in a really uncomfortable spot if she wants to – but she can also make you feel so unbelievably relaxed. That's just one of the things I absolutely love about her.

"So your grandmother knew the family that runs this place?" She asks me and I nod affirmatively. I think that she did it to remind me of everything my grandmother taught me and to remind me that I was still on my own territory, and that I was still with her. "You know so much of my family and my life is rooted here in Vegas sometimes I forget that I was a Montana rancher's daughter growing up."

I smile at her, wanting to tell her I know the feeling, but I don't. I've lived here my entire life. I actually only moved out of the neighborhood I grew up in maybe four years ago. "Yeah but you learned a lot doing that that I'll never know. Like how to ride horses and I'm sure it was gorgeous growing up on a ranch."

"It was," she tells me, her eyes glowing with the memory. "There's something about living on a horse ranch that can take your breath away. But... I live for the city."

"Yeah?" I ask her, and she nods affirmatively. I've only ever known Cath as a 'city girl', and truthfully, I have a hard time picturing her riding horses, living on a ranch. I'm curious to get to know this other side of Catherine – a side that probably none of her friends in Vegas know. I narrow my eyes a little, as if sizing her up. "So, you know how to ride a horse, huh?"

Catherine is in the middle of a sip of her glass of water when I ask her this in a slightly teasy voice. She chuckles a little as she swallows it down, then glares at me playfully. "What, you don't think I look like the horse-riding type?"

"No, no." I smirk and try to backtrack a little. We're actually having a really nice time, despite my sudden date fright. "I've just never seen you do it before, and I don't even know how."

"Well…" She now takes both of my hands in hers, gently rubbing the outsides as she smiles a little to herself, and then takes her voice down a bit lower. A bit more seductively, may I say, "I happen to know just the right person who could teach you how to ride a horse."

My jaw must have dropped down to the floor. I manage to compose myself a few moments later, clearing my throat and wetting my lips, willing to play along with her little game. "Oh yeah?" I ask her softly. "And who might that be?"

She lets one of her fingers run up and down the back of my hand, down to my watchband before her eyes meet mine. "Nicky."

I can't help but laugh at her comment as cruel as it was. The very prospect of Nick teaching me how to ride horses makes me a little sick in the pit of my stomach, especially considering the dirty tone of the things I was thinking.

I settle back on my chair a bit and give her a look like she'd just said the most disgusting thing in the world, but I can't even pretend to be mad at her. Giving her a wink I say, "Well I can't help but think I'd have a little more fun if you taught me the ropes." I'm almost nervous that I crossed a line by being flirtatious but that's the slant our relationship has had our entire lives.

"Well I might be able to do that for you," she says to me with a grin. "But I'm not sure where we're supposed to find horses in the city."

"I promise to find a place and take you sometime," I tell her, squeezing her hand. It would be an incredibly romantic outing and I resolve to figure out how to make it happen. "We might want to wait until the weather warms up a bit though."

The rest of our time at the restaurant seems to fly by, I'm enjoying myself so much. I can't believe how nervous I was that I wouldn't have anything to say to Catherine besides unarticulate phrases. By the time dessert comes, we're laughing and having a great time, talking about everything from work, to family, to traveling we've done. I don't know how it is, that we can always think of something to talk about. Is it that right chemistry I've always looked for but have never been able to find? I'm not sure, but as I gently place my hand at the small of her back to lead her out of the restaurant later on, I can't stop thinking about how I wish I could spend every waking minute with her.

Catherine doesn't know about the second part of the date I've planned, but I think she gets the idea when she sees we're driving close to the Strip. I decided to take her dancing in one of the clubs for the rest of the evening. She's commented to me before about how much she loves dancing, but never gets the chance anymore with work and raising Lindsey by herself. From the look in her eyes, I can tell she's more than thrilled at the prospect.

I watch her put her hand on her chest in that stereotypical lady way as we slip through the door. "Oh, Warrick. This place is amazing." I smile at her and shift smile to kiss her cheek.

I lead her towards the club I've picked for the evening, another establishment run by a man I've known for years. This time, however, it's a guy I went to high school with. Actually, if memory serves me, I think I've known him since the fourth grade. We're greeted at the front door by my old friend himself.

"Warrick when you told me you were bringing a special woman tonight you didn't tell me she was going to be this gorgeous," he takes Catherine's hand in both of his and leans forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Bar's open. I told Jake at the bar that your tab's on the house for the night." Leaning next to me so that Catherine can't hear what he says next he lets me know that he's also instructed the DJ to play any songs I request.

"Shall we?" I ask my stunning date as I take her hand and pull her towards the dance floor. We start dancing, her body moving so sensually I have to resort to mind tricks to keep things from happening.

The first song is upbeat, and while there are tons of twenty-somethings dancing around us, you'd never know that Catherine was about twice their age. She has the most amazing way of moving that body of hers. The way she moves her hips could possibly cause me a heart attack. Somehow, my brain manages to send my muscles the message to dance, and somehow not look like a fish out of water. I'm not one to brag about my dancing skills, but I must say I have a few stellar moves in my repertoire. Everything I do, though, she seems to have a sexy response to, and it's not long before we're dancing close enough to start making out. Which, believe me, I'm thinking about.

After a couple songs, Catherine decides she wants a drink, so I lead her to the full bar, which is swarming with customers. I can feel some of the other guys' eyes on Cath, so I put my hand on the small of her back almost possessively, and let my thumb gently stroke back and forth as we wait. I'm not sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could swear she's leaning back into my touch.

The club is booming with a melting pot of sounds – the loud base of the music pounding, people chattering and laughing, glasses clinking – so I have to lean right in to Catherine's ear for her to hear anything of what I'm saying.

"You know, I think you've got about every single pair of eyes on you tonight," I tell her, looking on towards a crowd of college-aged guys on the other end of the bar, all of which I've seen glance at Catherine at least once since we reached the bar. Catherine just chuckles and turns her head so her lips are next to my ear, and she puts a hand on my upper chest.

"They can look all they want, but the only pair I care about are those green eyes of yours, 'Rick."

Feeling especially daring, and perhaps so she doesn't see me blush, I shift my head so that my lips meet hers. At first I'm feeling a little reluctant but when I remember that I'm kissing Catherine Willows, I decide to make it a kiss she'll never forget. Running my hands up both of her sides slowly when I can't go any further I slide them across her back and onto the back of her head. Twisting her hair in my fingers I deepen the kiss.

Any worry I had about her pulling away quickly vanishes when I feel one of her hands go to my neck, and the other to my bicep. Her lips are working just as fervently as mine as we continue to share our first mind-numbing kiss. I've kissed my fair share of women, but nothing in my memory can compare to the effect Catherine is having on me now. Her scent, her lips, and…woah…her tongue…the combination is just mind-blowing.

After about thirty seconds of heated kissing, Catherine finally pulls back and just studies my face for a few moments with this satisfied grin. Then she bites her lip just a little, like she's just gotten to do something she's wanted to do for a long time. If she'd been thinking about that kiss for as long as I had, it had been years.

I reach up and gently move the piece of hair that had fallen between our lips with the tip of my finger. Allowing my hand to cradle her cheek for a moment I study her blue eyes. I've never gotten the pleasure of being this close to her without feeling guilty before and I drink in every aspect of this moment.

"You're so beautiful," I say to her, donning the deepest tone in my voice I could manage. When she smiles at me, almost blushing, I realize she doesn't understand how beautiful I mean.

Taking my other hand and shifting it so I was holding both of her cheeks in my hand I pull her lips towards mine and kiss her more deeply than I've ever kissed another human being. "I mean it Catherine. You're the most amazing woman I've ever known and by far the... sexiest."

Her sea blue eyes meet my green again, just gazing into each other's orbs. There's dozens of people around us, but to me, Catherine is the only other one in the room. I can see the raw desire in her eyes, probably matching my own expression. We've hidden our feelings for years, for lots of reasons, but tonight, it just feels like everything is falling magically into place. I need to feel closer to her. Closer than being in this club will allow.

As if reading my mind, Catherine leans in to my ear. "We should get out of here." She gives my bicep a squeeze, as I feel her breath against my ear, my neck, my cheek, until finally our lips meet yet again. I kiss her lightly this time; tenderly almost, as I feel my body getting hotter and hotter with desire. Before I can respond to her, she clasps my hand and starts to lead me towards the door. It was all happening so fast, but I swear I could hear a few hoots and hollers from some of the people around us.

I tighten my grip around Catherine's fingers for a moment and I know it's because I want to show my possession over her to all of the other men in the room. I feel a little sick with myself that I want to show the other men that she belongs to me, but I've never been able to say that before. For tonight, and I hope every night after, Catherine Willows will be mine and I honestly couldn't be happier.

I step closer to her as we leave the building putting a hand on the small of her back as we walk down the road towards my car. We parked about a block up from the club because even though I got everything comped my friend doesn't like to give out free Valet parking. He only has so many spaces and they're a huge source of his revenue.

Holding the door open for Catherine I chuckle to myself as I watch her lean across the car to unlock my side after she's in. I remember watching a movie with my grandmother once, A Bronx Tale, and it had this test to see if your girl was a great one. If she leaned over to unlock the door, she's a keeper. I grin as I sit down in the driver's seat. I've always known Catherine was unlike any other woman.

Before I can even put the keys in the ignition, I feel Catherine's hand move my face towards her and capture my lips again in a fiery kiss. I quickly respond, moving my lips against hers fervently. Now that we're alone in the car, with no one else watching, and no music blaring, I feel like my senses are going haywire. Now I can hear her gentle moan as I deepen the kiss, and the barely audible smacking of our lips as we begin to make out like teenagers.

We're lost in yet another series of kisses when we both hear a ruckus of people passing by my car. We both pull away at the same time, breathing heavily, and Catherine tucks her hair back behind her ears. While we're having trouble keeping our hands to each other at the moment, the car was no place to get carried away.

"We should go back to my house. Lindsey will be out for a while, so we can be alone." She suggests. If she's ensenuating what I think she is, I'll be a very happy man tonight. I'm not sure if our hormones are getting the best of, though, and I want Catherine to be sure about all of this.

"Are you sure, Cath?" I ask her softly, looking into her eyes again. Catherine's eyes give me the only answer I need, as they practically smile back at me, and she squeezes my hand.

I turn the key and as soon as the engine revs up I hear the unmistakable ding of my fuel light coming on. Why hadn't I been smart enough to remember to fill up the tank before I picked Catherine up? "Looks like we have to stop for gas... sorry about that. Where's the best place between here and your house?"

Catherine looked like she was thinking for a moment before she spoke, "Go up Vermont and then take Free all the way to the light. The Exxon up there's always pretty cheap. Plus they have these killer smoothies there. Lindsey and I stop every day during the school week."

"The strawberry jammer smoothies," I say remembering them from my youth. They used to be sold at this convenience store about two blocks past my middle school. I loved those things. "Yeah, I remember those. I used to eat them like every day, too. I liked the strawberry kiwi myself."

"Well, I'm sold. Exxon it is," Catherine tells me. I chuckle a little and pull out of my parking spot. It's not long before I pull up to said Exxon station, though with all the anticipation that's going on, it feels like weeks have passed. Cath offers to go inside and get us the smoothies, but I insist on paying and tell her to stay in the car. After a heartbreaking total near forty bucks, I trudge inside to get the two smoothies and pay for the gas.

At this time of night, there's always an interesting variety of people in any given gas station store. There's drunk college frat boys, hippies, a few old fogies in there, scattered around. I grab two of the styrofoam cups and begin to fill one up, listening to the gentle whir of the machine as it spurts out the frozen, pinkish liquid. Just as I'm finishing the first cup, I hear a familiar giggle on the other side of the store.

"I'm NOT buying those. No WAY," I hear from about two aisles away. I quit filling my cup and turn my ear towards the direction of the girl who's speaking.

I'm about to approach the teens when I overhear more of the conversation. The older boy's low voice says, "C'mon Lindsey. You told me you loved me... I just wanna keep you safe."

Though I feel guilty for having the desire to eavesdrop on Lindsey I really can't help but wonder how she's going to handle this situation. I understand that she's only fifteen but I'm here and I can step in if the situation starts to call for it.

"We... don't have to use them right away?" I hear her voice ask shyly.

I hear the other kid sigh in annoyance. I can tell it's not Ryan's voice, though I'm fairly certain that I see the top of his head over the aisle. I'm fairly certain it must be that Chad punk I had that unfortunate meeting outside Catherine's house with. And if my hearing is correct, that Chad punk is trying to persuade Lindsey to have sex before she's ready.

"Seriously, Linds?" He questions in a tone I sure as hell don't like. "How much longer do you need?"

My jaw drops, and I'm about ready to go over there to throttle the kid, but I think Ryan may beat me to it. If Chad thought that a good guy like Ryan was just going to stand back and watch him pressure Lindsey into something she didn't want to do, he was dead wrong.

"Are you deaf, Chad?" I hear Ryan stick up for my favorite girl. "She's not ready, so just drop it." Ryan tells him firmly. Ryan's such a mellow kid, I never knew he had such a voice in him. I guess when a situation calls for it, anyone can find a voice.

"Listen up you little punk," I hear the older teen, Chad, say, followed by the unmistakable sound of ruffling clothing. "You're only out with us because Lindsey felt guilty about what she said to her mom and offered to babysit you as a favor. You actually think she wants to spend time with you?"

I hear more shuffling around before there's a thump and someone falls to the ground. "You ought to learn to keep your hands off of people who don't want you touching them. And I'm willing to bet she doesn't want to be around you much right now either you horny dick head!" I catch myself before I actually start cheering.

As they say, boys will be boys, and in the next few moments, the shoving turns into a full-on fight between them. A moment later, I hear one of their bodies bang against the display and Lindsey begins to yell.

"Both of you stop it!" She yells futiley. Once a couple guys start fighting, no amount of pleading on a girl's part will get them to stop until someone's on the ground or gives up. I know I can't just let this go on right in front of me and not do anything. If I don't, Ryan will likely get the piss beaten out of him. Though his efforts were noble, he really has no chance against this Chad guy, and Sara would kill me if I just stood by and let her son get beaten to a pulp.

I cross the gas station in a few seconds and come across the pair wrestling, and Lindsey carrying on yelling, trying to get them to stop. "Hey, hey! Knock it off!" I hear my voice boom. For a second, I lock eyes with Lindsey, and I can't tell whether she's relieved or mortified to see me.

The two boys are keeping at it, so I reach into the ball of arms and legs and grab what I think must be Ryan's arm, because I know he'll be easier to pull out. After some pulling and pushing, I manage to free the two teenagers from each other, and they stare each other down, like two angry dogs defending their territory.

Look at you two, acting like animals," I say to them as I give Lindsey a look that tells her to go out and get into the car. She obliges a little reluctantly, sensing it wouldn't be wise to argue with me at the moment. "You ought to be ashamed."

"And you," I say to Chad. "You're what eighteen? Trying to take advantage of a fifteen year old girl sure as hell is a good way to piss of her mother's boyfriend... and kicking a fourteen year old boy's ass could land you in jail. Get the hell out of here. Now." Did I just call myself her boyfriend? Chad gives Ryan one last glare and he storms out the door.

"I-I'm sorry Mr. Brown," Ryan says to me as I usher him towards the front door. "He uh... he was trying to make Lindsey... well... I just didn't think it was right."

"It's Warrick," I correct the kid. "And I'm not mad at you. You might not have been very smart but what you did for her took a lot of guts. I don't know many kids your age who'd take on someone so much older. Just don't do it again, okay? We don't have to tell your mom and dad."

"Thanks," the kid says to me as he tries to straighten his clothes, obviously relieved. Knowing what I do of Sara and Alexander's parenting style, I just saved his ass. He watches me kinda warily as he follows me towards the door after we've paid.

"You too," I mention as we start walking closer to the car. "You know... for helping Lindsey."

Ryan nods, and beams a little bit. I know how good it feels to kick someone's ass who deserves it. Well, I wouldn't exactly say that Ryan kicked Chad's ass, but at least he didn't stand by and let Lindsey be taken advantage of. As I told Ryan, that takes guts.

As we near the car, I can already hear the sound of Catherine's worried voice questioning Lindsey inside. I'm sure Cath wasn't expecting to run into her daughter at the gas station, and she's wondering what the hell is going on.

"I hope I didn't get Lindsey in more trouble," Ryan mutters as we reach the car, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets.

"Nah, man. You just saved her a lot of trouble," I point out, though Lindsey may be thinking right now that facing her mother is the most unpleasant task on Earth. Ryan sighs and opens the back door behind the driver's seat as I get in myself.

Lindsey seems to be in the middle of a slightly tearful explanation of what had occurred inside the gas station, and Catherine is holding one of her hands. If I know Catherine, what she's mostly concerned with right now is Lindsey's well-being.

"Lindsey, just calm down and breathe," Cath instructs her, running her thumb back and forth across the back of her daughter's hand. As Lindsey blubbers a little, upset about what had occurred, Catherine turns to me. "Warrick, what happened?"

"Uh," I start trying to figure out how to word what I have to say. "Well I was in there getting our smoothies when I ran into the kids. Uh... Chad wasn't exactly being a gentleman but from where I was standing it looks like Ryan had Lindsey's back."

"That's it," I hear Catherine saying. "Linds I know you like this guy, but I don't think you should see him anymore."

"Mom, that's not fair," Lindsey starts to protest but something stops her. I see her looking at Ryan for a moment, but I can't tell exactly what it was that stopped her from speaking. Finally, after a few more moments of pause she says, "whatever. Can we just go home?"

"Sure kid," I tell her as I start the car. "Ryan do you want me to drop you off before or after Lindsey and her mom?"

"Uh…whichever." He answers, not wanting to be any trouble, I can tell. "Whatever's easiest for everyone."

I nod and pull away from the pump. The car is dead silent apart from an occasional sniff from Lindsey. Obviously, I've never been a teenage girl, but I'm sure Lindsey is confused about all this and not quite sure what to think. As I drive towards Ryan's hotel, I keep stealing glances back at her, wondering what she's thinking. I know she's really into this guy, but why is she with him if he's been disrespecting her so badly? All I want is for Lindsey to be happy and healthy, and be with a guy who treats her right.

I pull up to the hotel Ryan and Alexander are staying at and I hear Ryan unbuckle his seatbelt as I come to a stop. "Um, thanks again for everything Mr…I mean, Warrick. I appreciate it." He tells me politely.

"Not a problem, man. Just make sure you stay out of trouble from now on, alright?" I turn my head to the side as he gets out.

"Yeah, I will," he promises me, then pokes his head back in to say goodbye to Lindsey. "Uh, for what it's worth…thanks for inviting me along."

Lindsey sniffs a little and nods. "Thanks for sticking up for me. I'll see you around."

The rest of the car ride goes silently. Lindsey's sobbing has subsided and the angry glares she'd been shooting at Catherine and I seems to all but die out. As I pull into the drive way I feel Catherine's hand on my leg as she looks at me. I can tell she's asking me to come inside. Once we're in the living room Catherine excuses herself to go up stairs and change into something a little less constricting. I'm grateful for the opportunity to talk to Lindsey alone.

As soon as her mother is out of sight I take a deep breath and speak to the teen. "Lindsey, look I get that you're pissed at me for getting in the middle there but... I'm never going to be able to sit by and let something like that happen to you."

"Nothing was happening to me," Lindsey told me, though it was more out of an attempt to calm me down than anger. "I'm pretty good at taking care of myself and I can handle Chad. It's not like he was going to jump me right there in the Kwik-Stop."

"Lindsey still," I tell her, trying to make her see eye to eye with me. "You're fifteen and you shouldn't have to think about that stuff if you don't want to. No matter how old you are or the guy is... he needs to respect you."

Her arms are still crossed scornfully across her chest as she closes her eyes and barely shakes her head from side to side in disapproval, as if she thinks I'm wrong about so many things she doesn't even know where to begin. It's frustrating trying to help someone who doesn't think they need to be helped. I wish there were some magic words I could say to get her to see what a prick this Chad guy really was.

"Yes, I get that Warrick," she replies a bit defensively. None of the Willows women like to have their intelligence questioned in any way, I've found. "What you and my mom don't seem to get is that maybe I _wanna_ be with Chad, and that's _my_ choice, not yours."

"Lindsey," I begin, "it's hard to see things that are going on when you're in a relationship. From the outside, it seems like Chad doesn't respect you, and he doesn't care what you want. I just want you to be careful, Lindsey, alright? Don't put up with him if that's what he's like."

Lindsey's tongue has been poking around the side of her cheek in thought while I speak to her, contemplating my words. She has to know deep down this guy isn't good news. I know you sometimes have to let kids make their own mistakes and learn from them, but not when it comes to this. I cannot, and will not let this Chad guy ruin her life.

"Whatever. It's not like Mom's gonna let me see him anymore anyway."

"Linds I know you're feeling a lot of things right now and you know... that's totally okay," I tell her knowing that these things were hard at any age. "Just try to see where your mom's coming from with that one. From the outside this just doesn't look good. She loves you Linds, really."

I can see that Lindsey is trying as hard as she can to help make her relationship with her mother get better. I've seen the dramatic change they've made in just a few days but I also know that the lively and violently passionate teen is lurking beneath the surface.

"You know what I want?" She questions me. "I want a mother who trusts me enough to realize that I can decide who I want to be with for myself. I don't care how it looks, Chad's a good guy. I just wish Mom would take the time to get to know him rather than trying to get between us."

I hear a door open upstairs and know Cath must be done changing, and my one-on-one time with Lindsey will soon be over, so I need to get in the last word and make it good. "Alright, Lindsey. If Chad really is a good guy, then I'm happy for you. But what I need you to do in the next few days, is think really hard about this guy. You need to think about what your relationship is really like. Honestly think about how he's treating you. If he puts you down, or pressures you into things, I think you know that's not a good sign, Linds." I raise my eyebrows at her a little, hoping I'm getting through to her. "And remember. Your mom is here to help you and protect you, not to ruin your fun. Alright?"

I'm fully prepared for her to start battling back, but I'm pleasantly surprised when she agrees. "Okay." She says without a hint of argument or attitude, as her mother reaches the bottom of the stairs.

"Alright," I give an approving nod, and step forward to bring her into a hug. She allows it, and I embrace her for a few long moments. "You take care, and think about what I said." I tell her gently. She nods into the hug as Catherine stops next to the counter and watches the end of our exchange. I release Lindsey a moment later and sigh as I look at Catherine.

"Well, I'll head out to give you two some privacy." I gather up my car keys from the counter and look at Cath. She follows me to the door and as I'm stepping over the threshold she stops me. A hand firmly on my forearm she pulls me towards her and leaves me with just one more kiss.

"I'm sorry things got cut so short... we'll have to make up for it next time." She whispers in my ear. Not a half hour ago, we had plans for a little romancing when we arrived back, but I don't feel disappointed at all, because I think I was right where I needed to be at the right time.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey everyone. We're SO sorry this took us so long! You know how we are. We write slowly but we always seem to please. We really hope that you enjoy it! Also, don't forget to read some of the other things we've written together on Bauerfreak's profile. Anyway, 22 pages single spaced... so yeah... I hope that makes up for how long we took. Please enjoy it! And review! REVIEW! Please? Thanks... we like reviews. -LLK and Bauerfreak**

_Symphony of Change_

_Chapter 8 _

If you ever have the unfortunate opportunity of being shacked up in a hospital bed for a few months, you will be able to share in the all-encompassing glee I feel right now as I take off this ugly-ass hospital gown for the last time as I prepare for my release out of the Desert Palms Hospital. Week after week of staring at the mauve walls, watching reruns of _The View_, and less-than-appetizing hospital food will soon be in my past, I am happy to say. I didn't even try to hide my enthusiasm when the doctor finally signed the release form and said those magical words.

After I slip on a form-fitting blue t-shirt paired with some jeans, I hear a knock on the door. I smile to myself, wondering which one of the important men in my life it may be. I yell for whoever it is to come in, and I'm met with Grissom's warm, inviting eyes and his familiar smile.

"Hey, Griss." I smile as I reach down below the set of chairs right next to the bed to get out my suitcase. Grissom hurries over as if me lifting this five-pound suitcase will send me back to being bed-ridden once again. I reluctantly stop and allow him to take the case from my hands and set it on top of the bed. It's a nice gesture, really. Him looking out for me and making sure I don't hurt myself, but honestly? It's not like I'm going to break.

It's only a moment later when I turn my attention to the sound of footsteps coming into my hospital room door. My son comes into the room quickly and has me engulfed in a full, tight, hug. He's not worried about breaking me at all, just showing me how much he's missed me. As I feel my son's strong arms around me I realize he's growing up on me. I don't remember telling him that he could, but children have a habit of growing up with or without their mother's permission. When he finally lets me out of his embrace and starts to step away from me, I have to remind myself that he's fourteen already. The height difference between him and me is striking.

I guess I didn't notice it before because I was laying in a hospital bed every time he'd been here to visit, but my son is several inches taller than me. When did that happen? I remember when he was just learning how to walk, and as he drops a kiss on my cheek, I remember the first time he ever did that too. It feels like yesterday was fourteen years ago all of a sudden. If I wasn't so elated to be leaving the hospital I might even be tempted to cry. I've missed so much of my boy's life.

I reach up and let my fingers run through his wild mop of long curly hair playing with the edges that dangle just over his ears. I'm about to comment on how tall he's gotten when Grissom interrupts. "Ryan, do me a favor and grab these bags? Your mom's coming home."

Ryan mumbles something I can't hear and instead of grabbing the bags he turns back to me. "Hey, Mom, how about we take you out to your favorite restaurant to celebrate?"

"That sounds good, honey. But maybe a little bit later." I tell him, making eye contact for a brief second with Grissom. Ryan's just completely ignored Grissom, which has been happening more and more the last couple days. I know Grissom wants Ryan to like him, since he will be his future stepson and all, but Grissom's never been good with people, let alone teenagers. "Could you get those bags please?"

"Sure, Mom." He picks the bags that are under the chairs up and sets them on the bed with my suitcase. It worries me that Ryan hasn't really taken to Grissom. It's not like they'll be living together every single day. Ryan's life is in California, and he'd only be visiting during school breaks and the summer. Still, I want Ryan to feel comfortable with my future husband.

"Thanks, Ryan. Is your dad around?"

"Yeah, he's just talking to the doctor in the hallway." Ryan tells me as Grissom packs the last of my items into the suitcase. "Want me to go get him?"

"Yeah, baby. That would be great."

Ryan nods and disappears out into the hallway, leaving me and Grissom alone once again. As Grissom zips the suitcase up, I scratch behind my ear a little uncomfortably. I don't remember a time when I've felt this nervous around the man that I love. It's hard to explain. Things just feel…different since the accident. We both know he's the reason I was kidnapped and put through all this pain. And while he's been with me every step of the way, something just doesn't quite feel right and I can't put my finger on it.

I watch as Grissom makes sure that all of my belongings are collected, as though I'm a child and I can't do it myself. I'm tempted to be frustrated with him but in truth, I can't. This man has been in my life for more than a decade and the expression on his face hurts me.

"He's still adjusting," I tell him. I walk to his side and stop him from what he's doing, turning him so he's looking down at me. "He's a teenager and he's adjusting to you. He'll come around."

I'm lying and I know I am. I don't remember the last time that I lied to this man to his face. I honestly don't believe I ever have before, but now, I am. It's funny how much our relationship has changed in the months since my acc—attack. There was a time when I loved him so intimately that I would have admitted that my son wasn't ever going to like him, and I probably would have loved him unconditionally despite it. Now, well now I can't help but feeling that there is a reason my child can't connect with this man.

Grissom offers me a weak smile. He's never hurt a flea in his life. He's a good guy, and I know he is, but Ryan being standoffish with him is just adding to the pile of things that don't quite seem to feel right.

"I know." Grissom nods slightly, as he offers me a half-smirk. "I'll try to give him some more space."

"Thanks." I lean forward and embrace him, trying to concentrate on his loving arms around me. How many years, when I was younger, did I want this? I always craved this; thought I needed him. Shouldn't this be enough? Wouldn't millions of women kill to have a decent, educated, all-around good man doting on them all the time? I have one right in front of me, holding me in his arms, and suddenly it doesn't feel like all it's cracked up to be.

Alexander knocks on the door moments later, so I pull away from my fiance. Sadly, I'm a little relieved that I'm not completely alone with Grissom. With me being bed-ridden for the last couple months, our conversations have dried up a bit. There's nothing really to talk about, I've realized, besides what's going on at work. At some times in my life, I would be perfectly happy drowning myself in work-related mumbo jumbo, but I've also been realizing the last few years a relationship needs to go beyond that.

"How are you feeling?" Alexander crosses the room, concern but hope painted on his face.

It's involuntary but I feel my body doing it even before my mind catches up that it's happening. I wrap my arms around Alex's neck and hug him. It hurts a little. The part of my arm where the nurse had only removed my IV a few hours ago is tender, but I don't care. I bury my face into Alexander's shoulder and pull him to me a bit tighter, feeling the hair on the nape of his neck squeeze between the fingers on my left hand.

I've really missed the man. It's not like he's the love of my life or anything. Actually, I'm not sure if I ever had any physical attraction to him at all. Well, there was some, obviously, but not like I've had with others in my life. The dynamic that I share with Alexander is much more complex and at the same time much more simple than all of that.

In all of my years there have been very few things that have remained constant in my life. One of them was Alexander, from the day I befriended him when we were just twenty years old until today he has never, not once, let me down. I have often wished that I could feel more for him than I do. I love him deeply, more deeply than I may have ever loved another person besides my son, but there has never been a spark of anything besides friendship. Still, I can't imagine my life without him.

The funny thing is that I'm now closer to tears than anything else throughout this whole ordeal and I realize that I should pull away from Alexander before I actually do cry. I notice that both my husband and fiance are giving me a strange look. They must have been surprised by my uncharacteristically emotional display of affection. I straighten Alexander's collar and smile up at him, ignoring Grissom completely, "I'm finally getting out of this joint."

Alexander lets out a low chuckle at my apparent exhubrance and gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead. He squeezes my upper arm tenderly in reassurance. "Well, let's get you out of here. You have all your stuff?"

Grissom nods affirmatively when I check to make sure, since he's been doing the packing. "I think so. We ready to roll?"

They of course don't allow me to carry any of my own bags out of the hospital besides my purse. Grissom takes my suitcase and Ryan takes a couple other stray belongings and we leave my hospital room for the last time. Ryan walks right next to me, with Grissom and Alexander leading the way out to the car.

"I'll just follow behind you." Alexander says to Grissom as we reach the parking garage a minute or so later. Grissom lugs the suitcase into the back of the Denali with a bit of a grunt. Alexander and Ryan get into their car, and I climb in the passenger seat of the Denali. I think about getting in the driver's seat just to see what Grissom would say. I'm sure he won't be letting me drive for quite a while, until he thinks I'm not broken anymore, whenever that will be.

Grissom soons gets in a turns the engine. Otherwise the car is silent inside. Everything just seems uneasy right now. It feels like I'm a teenager again on the first date with someone, not sure what conversations to start up.

We're silent for a lot of the car ride until we turn down that last stretch towards home. I spent so much time there with Grissom and the dog we adopted together, Hank, that I'd started thinking about it as my own home. The truth was that my apartment didn't really have much left to offer me. My pet hermit-crab, Blinky, whom I'd found in a trash can three years ago still lived in an aquarium in my apartment, to my knowledge. Greg has been stopping by ever couple of days to check on him and bring in my mail. If it weren't for Blinky I probably wouldn't have seen the inside of my apartment very much in the last couple of years, even before the incident.

Somehow, however, I feel like I've missed poor little Blinky and our cold, dark, empty apartment more than I've missed Grissom's home. The townhouse that I was ready to call my own just a few months ago now seems so distant.

"You think Hank's going to remember me?" I ask, half joking. I was trying to break the silence to take pity on the man in the driver's seat beside me.

Grissom's hand comes across the car and takes my own. His thumb rubs gently on the back of my hand. "I think he might have missed you even more than I did." The smile he gives me makes me feel funny. It's the same smile that once had the power to make me melt. I lace my fingers in his and try, try to fall back in love with him. I feel terrible because I just can't.

I guess it's second nature for Grissom to take me to his townhouse and not my apartment, when he decided to take me home from the hospital. Perhaps Ryan and Alexander are getting a little confused as they follow behind us. I look in the sideview mirror, as if I'd be able to read Ryan's expression all the way back in the other car. It's hard not to wonder now what he's thinking. He already seems to have it in for Grissom today, and I don't know what being taken to the bugman's apartment will do for his mood.

We pull into the narrow driveway so Grissom can park in the garage, and Alexander can park right behind him. After he puts the Denali in park and turns the ignition off, he commands I stay put so he can help me get out. I roll my eyes to myself as I wait for him to walk around and open the door for me, then help me down the treacherous twelve inches to the garage floor.

"Thanks." I say, in spite of my annoyance at all the fragile me business. I see Ryan walking towards the opened garage with his hands shoved in his pockets, keeping his eyes on the cement. He looks uncomfortable with the whole idea of setting foot in Grissom's townhouse. But when Griss and I get married, this will be where he stays when he visits.

Ryan offers me a small smile as he walks towards where I'm standing, and I know he's putting on a brave face for me. He doesn't want to be here, not with Grissom in his own home. It hits me how much I just want to spend more time with my son, especially now that I know he'll be going back to California soon. I want to savor every moment with him.

I grab my son's hand as he gets closer to me. I expect him to shake my hand off, but he doesn't. He lets me lead him through the garage and towards the house. It's when Hank comes running at me full force that my son finally lets go. I'd almost forgotten that my child was afraid of dogs. It wasn't a debilitating fear or anything. Large unfamiliar dogs just made him nervous. It's a fear I never shared with him. Besides, this dog was not unfamiliar to me. I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around the animal's neck, hugging him to me tightly. I did miss Hank.

I guess it's because I'm on my knees but Grissom pulls me to my feet and cradles my face in hands. It's as though he thinks I'm about to break. "Is everything okay?"

I want to pull away from him. I want to tell him that I'm not a china doll and that I'll be fine, but this man is just being kind to me. I lean forward and leave a small peck of a kiss on the edge of his lips. "I'm not going to break. Don't worry so much."

I'm trying to be tender, but the truth is I don't want to. In his rush to come to my aide Grissom has positioned himself between me and my son. Between a mother and child, and I realize that he's always been exactly where he is now. He has always been the one thing that stood between my son and I, and suddenly I hate him. I see red as I push past Grissom and take my son's hand again, squeezing it so he knows that the animal in Grissom's condo won't hurt him.

"Come on baby, I'll show you around," I tell my child. "There are some things here I bet you'll really like."

Despite his uneasiness about being in my fiance's apartment, Ryan really starts to eat up the amount of science plastered on every single wall. He can't hide how he marvels at Grissom's butterfly collection, and the wide array of disgusting insects displayed in the hall. That's one thing I've never been able to get comfortable with – bugs everywhere.

"How long has it taken him to collect all this stuff?" Ryan asks me in awe as his fingertips reach out to touch the glass which encases a beautiful yellow butterfly species.

"You should ask him yourself." I prompt him, giving him an encouraging smile. When he was a little kid, Ryan often needed a push to ask questions of people he didn't know well. I feel like he's eight years old again, and I'm trying to get him to trust his teacher.

Ryan gives me a sheepish smile, well aware of my intentions. He's a smart cookie, and is well aware of all the dynamics and emotions floating around the apartment. I don't want to begin to think about what Grissom and Alexander must be talking about in the living room alone.

"Mom, come on," he uses the dorky mom tone. "I was just looking. I'm not about to start up a conversation about bugs with him."

"Well, you should." I tell him as we both glance at another specimen. Our eyes meet and I can tell he wants to please me. He wants to like Grissom so it will make me happy, but I think he's having the same hang-ups I am. "He loves talking about this stuff."

A small sigh escapes from my son's lips. "I think I'll pass."

"Ryan, I'm going to marry the guy, you could at least try to get to know him, a little," I try leveling with my son. The truth is that if Ryan can't get comfortable with Grissom, then neither can I. My son and I walk around the town house a bit more, and come into the kitchen. On the refrigerator there is a picture of us, Grissom and I, stuck up by a magnet. We're standing in front of a roller coaster, both grinning. His arms are wrapped around me, and I remember the day as clearly as if it was yesterday. I was so in love back then.

My son reaches up and touches the picture. I can't read the expression on his face. "There's one like this of you and dad, only you're pregnant. It's in a frame on the night stand in the guest room. You remember?"

"Yeah, I do." I give my son a smile, or an attempt at one. "I'm really lucky that I've had two men in my life that cared about me Ryan. A lot of women aren't that fortunate."

"He's not like that anymore, is he?" He's talking about Grissom, and I know it. "The guy in the picture there, that guy, I almost can't help but like him. There's something about the way you're both smiling. But... he's not really like that in real life."

"He's changed," I admit to my child. "I guess more than I'd even realized. I've changed too though, and I really should try to make things work with him. He wants to marry me."

"I'm old enough that I understand why you and dad don't want to stay married," he says to me, looking me in the eye. "But why do you have to be married at all? You can't honestly think that he's going to make you happy. You're not happy anymore Mom."

We're interrupted when Grissom comes into the kitchen and starts preparing a pitcher of tea and some glasses filled with ice. I ask my son to go into the other room and see if his father would be interested in a snack. When Ryan is out of the room I start collecting the different things I'll need to assemble a snack plate.

"You don't have to," Grissom tells me. I just keep cutting the apple that I'd already started slicing. If he's going to start accepting the fact I'm not fragile as a vase, I'll have to provide him with some sort of proof. While I keep my eyes set on the apple and the work I'm doing, I sense him moving close to me. He stops right next to the counter and gently places his hand on my shoulder.

"Really, Sara. You go relax." His voice is full of concern, and while it should comfort me, it only further annoys me. I've been trying to remember he's only looking out for me, but I'm having a hard time not expressing my annoyance. Finally, I let the apple peeler clank into the sink and turn to face him, putting my hand on my hip.

"Griss, I know you're trying to be helpful, but really. I'm not helpless, and I'm not going to break." I look him straight in the eye. Immediately, I can tell he feels bad about it. I'm well aware I'm the most important thing in his life, and he'd do anything to make me happy. But I'm not sure if he knows how to make me happy anymore.

His mouth opens and closes once before he finds his words. "Look…I'm sorry. I just don't want you to strain yourself. I don't wanna see you get hurt again."

I swallow once and think about how to word my feelings. I take a moment to make sure my tone isn't snappy or defensive, because that's not what I want to come off as. "Since when is peeling an apple or getting out of a car strenuous, Grissom? You're treating me like a porcelain doll. I know you're worried, but you've gotta let me get back to normal life."

Grissom sighs and nods in understanding as he reaches out to take both of my hands in his. I allow him, feeling his thumbs rub back and forth across the backs of my hands. His familiar, caring gaze forces me to make eye contact with him once again. "You're right," he whispers. "I just love you so much."

His hands migrate from my hands to cup my face, leaving me no chance to look away for even a moment. "I…I love you too," I stumble, realizing for the first time I had trouble even getting that out. But, no – we're getting married soon. I'm sure all these emotions are from the accident and because Ryan and Alexander are in town. I'm confused, and surely I'll move past these feelings soon.

Grissom half-smiles at me and leans in to give me a tender kiss. I fight my instinct to pull away and allow his lips to descend on mine. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut as he finishes kissing me and pulls away slightly.

"Sara?" His voice is confused. "Are you okay?"

My eyes shoot open and I clear my throat uncomfortably, hoping he hasn't sensed the unease of the kiss on my end. I smile at him as he lets his arms fall to his side. His eyes are dissecting my face, trying to figure out what's going on with me.

"Fine," I cough a little and turn back to the sink. "Just fine. I just…uh, remembered I promised my friend Sylvia I'd call her today."

I do have a friend Sylvia and she did come by the hospital a few days ago and made me promise to call her. However, since Grissom doesn't know many of the people that I socialize with outside of work, I'm sure he's going to think that I'm making up a story. I half want to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that I'm just on edge because it's my first day home, and I half want to believe that, but it's not the truth and I know it.

I lean forward and drop a kiss on his cheek, letting my hand rest on the other one for a moment, before I pull away and take out my cell phone. I text Sylvia telling her that I did get out and that I'll call her when I have a free moment. Then, with a smile to my fiance, I gather up all of the snacks we've prepared together and carry them out to the living room where Ryan and Alexander are already sitting.

Alexander is flipping through a copy of the text book that Grissom assigned us at the seminar when we all met. I know that Grissom doesn't remember this but by the smile Alexander gives me it's clear that he does. I smile back. It makes me happy that I managed to make a friend so long ago in my life that has stuck by me through thick and thin. All of the other girls had a best friend when I was a kid, and I never was so fortunate. Granted, I've always had a few people in my life to laugh with, to enjoy spending time with, but for the most part they pass in and out of my world with the changes of the wind. I have a few friends now, however, that'll be there for me to the end of it all. Alexander was just the first, now I have Catherine, Warrick, Greg, and especially Nick.

I can see Grissom's approach behind me as it's reflected in the eyes of my family. The tone of their expressions changing as they remember they don't get to have me alone. "You well versed in forensics and entomology?" Grissom asks Alexander. I know he's testing him.

"As a matter of a fact," Alexander states. "You remember Sara told you I was in that seminar way back. I'm what I call a reformed former forensic scientist."

"What made you decide to give up on science and move on to law?" Grissom asks. If I were a teenager I'd smack him for his behavior, blatantly challenging Alexander in the way he is.

"Well when I was a younger man I had a heavy interest in both science and law," Alexander says as he claps a hand on our son's shoulder. Ryan is also interested in both. "So I thought that doing something in forensics, like being a CSI, would be a happy medium. The farther along I got though, I decided that I'm just happier working with the living."

Grissom, for all his experience with the dead, may not understand this but I do. Sometimes I have to admit that I do grow wary of spending so much time with the dead. There's something about the way you can make a living being smile that makes them so much more pleasurable to contend with. Sometimes, anyway, I do also understand Grissom's affinity for the non-living from time to time, and I'm sure Alexander does too. Any normal human being would. However, I find it almost bizarre that Grissom simply can't see the other side.

I can tell that Grissom is about to start quizzing Alexander again about his life and his abandonment of the field when we hear the unfamiliar sound of a knock on Grissom's townhouse door. I make a mental note that whoever it is on the other side of that door deserves for me to buy them dinner, for getting us out of this awkward situation. When Grissom opens the door, because he doesn't want me to get up from my spot on the couch on the other side of Ryan, I see Warrick and Nick standing in the door with various items. Nick has a bouquet of flowers and what looks like a small package in one of those decorative bags. Warrick has two DVD boxes and a package of my favorite uncooked popcorn. It'll be my pleasure to buy them dinner, if and when I get the chance to be alone with them.

I make no attempt to hide my enthusiasm about my favorite coworkers showing up. Over the years, they've become more than just coworkers, especially Nick. I count them both as dear friends, and their presence now is greatly improving my outlook on the day. Sitting up straighter, I grin widely, mirroring their own expressions as Grissom steps aside. He's never quite gotten over his desire to be alone in his own home. Grissom's never liked a lot of guests, and I know he'll be glad when everyone's been ushered out. However, today's about me finally getting home and finding happiness again. Seeing Warrick and Nick is a part of that.

"Warrick! Nicky!" I exclaim as they cross the room, still smiling. As they approach, I hold my arms out to receive a warm hug from each of them. Warrick leans down first and gives me a quick hug and a few pats on the back.

"You're already looking so much happier. You look great, Sara," he tells me, and I know it's true. Getting out of that hospital room has been quite liberating, and being in the presence of all these people that care about me sure helps.

"Thanks Warrick," I smile as he passes me my gifts. "I LOVE this popcorn, thank you. I haven't been allowed to eat it in months, so I'll definitely be chowing down." He grins and then holds the two DVD sets side by side in front of me. "ER and The Office. You know me too well, Rick. Thank you."

"You're welcome. But you better let me borrow The Office when you're done with it." He winked at me as I laughed a little and stepped away a moment later to let Nick by.

When Nick is truly happy, his whole face lights up like a little kid. Those crow's feet next to his eyes - on some men it just looks like a sign of aging, but on him it's somehow sexy. His eyes sparkle, and his smile – it sounds corny, but it lights up the room. When I see him smile I just want to do anything I can to make him smile again.

"Hey, darlin'," he greets me quietly, leaning down to embrace me. His head turns slightly to give me a kiss on the cheek, and he gives my upper right arm a supportive squeeze. "I'm a little jealous. When I got buried alive, Warrick didn't bring me popcorn and movies." He gives his friend a knowing smirk. It's so adorable when they tease each other like that. I can't help but laugh out loud at the mock-insulted look Rick shoots back.

"Don't worry, I'll share," I assure him as everyone moves around a bit to allow Warrick and Nick to sit. Nick takes the spot next to me and hands me his gifts. The flowers smell wonderful, and I promptly hand them to Grissom so he can put them in water. He next hands me the little box, wrapped in the decorative bag. I know Nick well enough to realize he's put the gift in a bag as opposed to wrapping it, because that's definitely not one of his fortes. "Hmmm. What could this be?"

As I take the bag out of Nick's hand I realize that it's heavy, and comment as much. Nick just grins at me. I paw through the dark green tissue paper. The edges of a book show through as I keep digging. The familiar feel of a book cover style I've grown to know over the years rubs my finger tips. It's the seventh and final Harry Potter novel.

"I'd forgotten all about this coming out over the summer," I say to Nick, all smiles. I'm flipping through it when I see an autograph on the inside cover. _Sara, your friend Nick tells me you're not feeling well. I hope you're better soon. Enjoy the book. -JKR. _"And she signed it. Nick how did you do this?"

"My sister Beth met her in June. I asked her to do me a favor," Nick tells me. "I've had it in my desk at home ever since. I'm just glad you're finally going to get to read it."

"Nick this is amazing," I lean forward and hug him. My arms wrap around his neck and I drop a kiss onto his cheek. I hear Grissom grunt in the background but I don't pay much attention to it. All I'm aware of is the tingle I'm feeling in my spine where Nick's fingers are pressing into it.

I wish all these confusing emotions would go away. When Grissom hugs me, it just feels warm and friendly, and now I'm getting a tingling feeling from Nick? I want to stay like this forever because it feels so good, the gentle pressure of his hand, but I quickly pull away. Surely, everyone's noticing the effect Nick's had on me. Or if they haven't, if I allowed Nick to hug me for one more second, the secret would be blown – that I really _really_ like how Nick's arms feel around me.

"Thank you so much." I tell him, clearing my throat slightly, both for the present and for the hug. Everything in me tells me I should look away and not look him in the eyes, but I can't help it. I look up into those gentle orbs of his and I can just tell. He understands what I'm going through – how, while I was trapped, I said my goodbyes to my family members and my coworkers in my mind, and how heartwrenching that was. How I thought every strand of hope in my body was gone, but then this tiny sliver would remind me I wanted to fight it. He'd done that in the coffin underground; I'd done it below the clutches of that car. And it bonded us. That's something I don't have with Grissom. While he tried to understand and be supporive, he had no idea, and he never would.

"You're welcome, darlin'," Nick offers me a warm grin, and then presses a tender kiss to my forehead. He's obviously tickled that his gift was such a hit, but I wonder if his feelings mirror mine in any capacity. Did he feel a tingle?

Grissom has since made his way back into the living room and perches himself on the arm of the couch next me, sitting there like a hawk over his territory. He puts his hand on my back and pats it gently as the standard questions start being asked, about how I'm feeling, when I might go back to work. The conversation soon shifts to interesting happenings at CSI, Ecklie's latest blunder, and the last episode of The Office. I've missed just hanging out with the guys at work and with my family, without being bound to a hospital bed. This really does wonders for me.

After a good twenty minutes of talking and just hanging out, Warrick's cell phone rings. He checks the caller ID and excuses himself to go into the other room.

Before Warrick makes it completely out of the room I almost force him to make eye contact with me. He's avoiding my eyes but as soon as I lock gazes with him I can tell why. It's Catherine on the phone. How do I know that? I've been working under the same roof as Warrick Brown and Catherine Willows for eight years now and that's the same look that both of them always have when one calls the other. It has been a long time, however, since I've seen either call the other about something that wasn't work related. This confirms my suspicions a little. I think they've taken the next step.

About damn time.

I give Warrick a knowing, congratulating, smile and allow him to escape the room back into the kitchen. Grissom seems to take note of what passed between Warrick and I, though he obviously can't read either of us because he reaches a hand down and covers one of mine with it. I look up at him and press my lips into a smile.

"What do you know about him and Catherine," I ask the room though I doubt anyone but Nick would have any information. Anything to get Grissom's attention off of me. "Somebody has to have seen something."

"They were pretty cozy in the car last night," Ryan tells me, a teasing tone that he knows more than I do. Alexander, however, jabs an elbow into his side. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to get the boy's attention. "What? They were. Holding hands while we drove and everything."

"Yeah," Nick confirms. "When I went to go drop Ryan off over there 'Rick and Cath were all decked out to the nines. He was as nervous as I've ever seen him."

Nick's tone lowers and as if on cue Warrick walks back into the room. The whole group of us, even Grissom, exchange smiles. "Sorry uh... I've got to go. Something came up. Nicky you mind giving me a ride back to the lab so I can get my car?"

He gives me an apologetic look like he really doesn't want to leave me but at the same time I can tell he's excited to be going where he is. To Catherine's side. I silently chuckle a little at the thought. I almost wish that I had that same kind of devotion to Grissom. Warrick loves me, and I know that, but I could have just been admitted to the hospital and if Catherine needed him he'd be at her side in a second. He can't help it. That's the way he's always been. She is the only most important thing in his life. Lindsey, sometimes, gives her a run for her money but the rest of us don't have a snowball's chance in hell. Seeing that kind of dedication between two people I care about makes me happy.

"Sure, man." Nick nods up at him and turns to give me a quick hug. He's always been the type of guy who'd give you the shirt off his back if he needed to. Over the years, I must say I've been a little tempted to ask…if you know what I mean, ladies. "Sorry, I gotta run. Rest up, okay? And call if you need anything."

"I will." I smile through my disappointment that they're leaving. I'm sure if they stayed much longer, however, Grissom would have ushered them out. The doctor's ordered plenty of rest, and I know Grissom will at least try to make me comply. "Thanks again for the presents, guys."

As they both turn to walk towards the front door, Nick turns with this look on his face – I can't quite describe it. It just looks like he's disappointed too that he had to cut his visit short. His smile is forced once again – it's forlorn, bereft, wanting. I want to do anything to make that kind face of his light up again, so I shout the first thing that pops into my mind.

"If you see JK Rowling, tell her I say thanks."

I'm such an idiot.

Nick has to bite his lip to keep from grinning – probably at my stupidity. I don't even make sense anymore. "Will do."

Warrick and Nick have disappeared out the door a few moments later. I let out a loud sigh. I'm not sure if it's because I'm once again feeling a little lonely, or if it's because I just made a complete jackass of myself like a seventh grade nerd trying to talk to the captain of the football team.

Grissom, still sitting on the armchair next to me, leans down to kiss the top of my head. "Feel like laying down for a while?" He prompts me, hoping I'll comply with the doctor's orders. I've never been one that likes lounging around all day. And now, after being bound to a hospital bed for months, I don't particularly feel like crawling back under the sheets just yet.

"Actually," I say, looking at Ryan and Alexander. "I'd kinda like to take Hank for a walk. I promise it won't be a long one, but I just can't stand being cooped up in the house the way I am."

"No," Grissom tells me. It's the first time I think he's ever out and out denied me something. I don't like this new controlling side to him. Not at all. "No, honey, I just don't think it's a good idea just yet."

I ignore him. I'm livid. If I think that I'm up to a simple walk around the block with the dog, and maybe my husband, I should be allowed to do that. Grissom isn't my keeper and he really needs to get his attitude in order. Last time I checked I was a grown, married, woman with a child of my own. None of those things give him, of all people, the right to tell me what I can and can't do.

I've made it all the way outside and am sitting slumped into the bench swing that I bought a year ago before I see him following me. All of a sudden the way he shuffles as he walks repulses me. "Sara, honey, I'm sorry. I'm really struggling here. It's going to be tough for me to adjust to this. I'm just so scared of losing you. I'm really going to need you to help me adjust."

It was the closest he's come in a long time to saying the right thing but I can't help but be afraid he's saying it for the wrong reasons. That he's saying it to calm me down, not because he means it. If I had my way I wouldn't be feeling so angry at him, I wouldn't be so ready to push him away and run off screaming into the night. I love this man, or at least I did. For years he was the epitome of what I wanted and the epitome of what was finally going to make me happy in the end.

Four months ago the chance to spend the rest of my life with him was everything I had ever dreamed of. I only wish that I still felt the same way. I want that happiness back.

"Just stop being so... so infuriating, okay?" I joke. "Let's just enjoy being together and having Ryan here with us while he is, okay?"

"Okay." Grissom smiles down at me and leans down to give me a kiss. I fight the urge to turn away and let him capture my lips with his. It bothers me and troubles me further that I don't feel a thing. It's like kissing my brother.

Luckily, he doesn't go in for more, and pulls away, grasping my hand in his. "Let's go around the block," he decides to give in to my need to stretch my legs. I had hoped it would just be Hank and I, but I'm truthfully just glad to be out and about. The walk around the block only takes about five minutes. We walk mostly in silence, which is fine with me. Walking Hank has always given me a chance to clear my mind and just relax.

When we arrive back at Grissom's townhouse, we find that Alexander and Ryan have already left. I don't blame them – hanging around while listening to a couple argue isn't exactly pleasant or comfortable. It was a bit rude of us, really, but I needed to stand my ground and get Grissom to realize that I needed to do what I wanted. I let Hank off his leash and he scampers over towards his water bowl, just as my cell phone buzzes. I check the ID and see that it's from Alexander.

It said, 'went 2 get lunch & give u some space. dinner later?'

I had promised Ryan earlier that we'd go out to my favorite restaurant together. I'm sure in a couple hours, I'll be feeling more ravenous, so I text back that the plan sounded good, and then snapped the phone shut.

I put a hand out and rub Hank's head gently for a moment before wandering out of the room. I find my way in to Grissom's study where he keeps his extra computer. To my surprise and I think pleasure my laptop is tucked into the corner on a bookshelf, my power cord folded neatly on top of it. The study has a small futon in it, for guests, and I tuck myself in to a corner on it and pull open my laptop.

I'd forgotten that about three days before the incident I'd changed the background image. It's a picture of Hank, Grissom, and I in the park that sits about three miles from here. I pull out my cell phone and scroll through it until I pull up a picture I took at the hospital last week. It's of Nick, Warrick, Alex, Ryan, Greg, and Catherine. I got lucky and they'd all managed to be in my room at the same time, I made them huddle together so I could snap the photo. I email it to myself and then click into my inbox. In a matter of seconds it's the new background on my PC.

I decide that I should scroll through the rest of my emails and deal with them, deleting most. I have eight from my son over different times in the summer. He couldn't figure out where I was. There are tears in my eyes as I read through them all. God, I missed him. I finish the emails and start to sift through the other important ones. Three from Hank's vet reminding me that he needs a check-up and shots. Two from my mother. They don't say anything important.

There, however, is a surprise in my junk box. A new email address, thegang from yahoo seems to have sent me more than four hundred emails. It's mostly notes from Greg and Nick. There are others though throughout - Catherine, Warrick, even Lindsey, Archie, Wendy, Mandy, Henry, David, and Hodges. The emails all talk about different things, work, their home lives, school in Lindsey's case, pets, surfing, television, some sports. According to the first note it's because they miss having me to talk to and this way they won't forget to tell me about it when I come home. It's going to take me hours to read them all, but I will.

I know I'm working with a great group of people doing something like that. I've had my fair share of crappy coworkers, and this team is really one in a million. For probably close to a minute, I just stare at the picture of the team after I'd minimized my Internet window. I've missed being at work, but I realize I missed them all more. In terms of me, that's a step in the right direction.

"It hasn't been the same without you." Grissom's voice startles me out of my trance. I look up to see him leaning against the door frame. He's been watching me. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I recompose myself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

Grissom walks over towards the futon and sits down right next to me. "I'm still a little jumpy, I guess." I confess to him, pulling my Internet screen back up. Reading over my shoulder is one of my pet peeves, and Grissom knows it, so he keeps his eyes focused downward, where our feet are almost touching. One of our favorite things to do, since becoming a couple, has always been to just lay together; sit together; just be together. It's still oddly comforting.

After a few moments of silence, Grissom reaches over and begins mindlessly – or perhaps maybe not so mindlessly – rubbing my thigh just above my kneecap. With Grissom, it's always seemed he's had to train himself to show random affection. It doesn't quite come natural, and this time, it actually makes me laugh a little. Not because it tickles, but because it doesn't seem natural.

"What?" The left side of his mouth curls up a little in question. I stop my laughing and wave my hand in dismissal. Just then, the front doorbell rings. Reluctantly, Grissom gets up from the futon to see who it might be. I figure it must be Ryan and Alexander back from lunch, but I can very clearly hear the Texan accent wandering in from the front door.

As I wander back down the hall towards Grissom and Nick I hear his voice ask where I am. Though it's frustrating to be doted upon every other minute by people because they think I'm going to break, I find an odd satisfaction in people just wanting to spend more time with me. I guess I really did give them all a scare.

I remember the fact that he mentioned how frightened he was in one of the emails he sent me as I come into the room, so I rush forward and give him a hug. "What are you doing back here?"

"Unlike Warrick I don't have a woman in my life to take time away from my friends," he said giving me a wink. "But really, I couldn't be happier for the two of them for finally figuring things out."

"Have they?" I ask him grinning from ear to ear. "I mean, officially?"

"No, nothing official yet," he tells me regretfully. I look at Grissom and can tell that he's even interested in the current status of the Warrick/Catherine relationship front. That was one thing about the lab that even Grissom hadn't missed over the years. Catherine and Warrick had come so close to solidifying their relationship so many times. I only hope that this time they do.

"Well come on in," I say pulling Nick into the door. "Let's put on one of those movies Warrick brought me."

I'm a little surprised to feel him resist against me slightly, but I'm about to figure out the reason, and it's not bad at all. "Woah, woah, woah." He steps back, with an amusing warning look on his face as he holds up a hand. "Hold on, now. I have something for you."

Nick moves to the right and leans down to pick something up that he's set on the porch. My heart melts when he reveals an animal carrier, and a tiny, slightly bewildered fluffy orange kitten inside. I put my hands up to my face as I kneel down to be at eye level with the gorgeous little cat.

"Oh, Nick!" I practically squeal, which anyone who knows me is aware, happens once in a blue moon. I slip a couple of my fingers through the grid, and the kitten sniffs my fingers to pick up my scent. "He's adorable!" I look up at him, and he's wearing one of his famous thousand-watt smiles. "Or is it a she?"

"It's a he," Nick informs me, "You can barely tell." He scoots forward a little so he can come all the way in the house, and sets the cage down on the floor. Excitedly, I open up the cage so I can dote upon my new furry friend.

I haven't even looked at Grissom yet. Who knows what his reaction will be. I really hope, for Nick's sake, that he cleared this with Grissom beforehand. The little kitten allows me to scoop him up, and soon I have him cradled against my chest as he meows. I haven't had a cat since I was a kid, and I only now realize as I'm holding the little bundle how much I've missed it.

"Nick, I love him," I lock eyes with him, and he nods kindly. "Thank you."

I finally look up to make eye contact with Grissom and he's just smiling at me. It can tell that he didn't know about the cat before hand but right now Nick and I could get away with anything. He's just glad I'm okay. I feel oddly like a child and Nick's my best friend from up the street. Like I have to have permission to keep the new pet, but I realize I'm a grown woman and this new orange tabby with be a welcome addition to my home, along with Blinky.

"What's his name?" I ask, snuggling him on my chest. He's already asleep.

"He doesn't have one," Nick tells me, a smile on his face. "But Lindsey Willows helped me pick him out, so don't forget to give her a call. She was the one who kinda gave me the idea so I took her with me to get him. I had to drop her off at her boyfriend's on the way here though."

"Wow?" I say, though I'm not sure what exactly I'm wowing. Maybe it's because Lindsey is grown up enough to do considerate things like this, or that she has a boyfriend, or maybe I'm just blown away that Nick would team up with a teenager to make me smile. "Well I think I'll wait to name him until Ryan gets back. He loves cats."

We all move in to the living room and are settled around the television when Hank finally appears in front of me nosing the poor sleeping animal in my arms. Thankfully he's friendly with the thing and settles himself on the couch next to me. Dropping his head on my lap, he also falls asleep. I spend the rest of the time I'm watching the movie alternately petting dog, cat, dog, cat.

Finally as the movie's credits roll Grissom stands and starts walking towards the back of the townhouse, "Nicky you and I have to be in to work in about ten. Catherine has the evening off so it's just you, Greg, and I tonight. Can't be late." He then vanishes into the bedroom.

Nick's gotten quite cozy during the movie, so he straightens himself up so he's sitting upright. There's a whole cushion in between us, but he lays his arm against the back of the couch in relaxation. He quirks his eyebrows at the creature on my chest.

"I guess he likes you," He comments, his voice soft and low. His mouth forms a grin as he scoots just a little closer, so he can reach over and rub behind the kitten's ears. The little guy responds positively, raising his head up a little with what looks like a smirk on his face, taking in the affection. Nick's thumb moves back and forth on top of his little skull. His hands looks so big, compared to the tiny thing he's petting. The cat seems to be enjoying the attention. Randomly, I wonder what Nick's hands feel like.

I chuckle a little at Nick's comment. As long as you feed them, and give them love, kittens are pretty easy to please. "He's adorable."

Nick contorts his voice into an impression of Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers Trilogy. "Just love him, stroke him," he jokes, causing me to crack up. If laughter is the best medicine, Nick sure knows how to deliver the perfect dose. He laughs at me, his face lighting up in that adorable way I know and love. "And don't gnaw on your kitty."

I'm laughing quite loudly as Grissom makes his way back into the living room. He's changed his shirt into a more appropriate work shirt, and put on a more formal pair of shoes.

I remember the analogy I made to myself a couple of hours earlier about being a child and Nick being my best friend up the road. Grissom is looking at us reproachfully, like we've done something wrong. "Alright Nick, you want to just ride in my car?" There's a sterness in his voice that we both know is him warning Nick to stay away from me. "Or just take your own. I don't think we're going to have a very tough night."

"Naw," Nick tells him. "I think I'll just take my own car in that way I won't have to bug the two of you guys later." Nick stands of of the couch and leans down to drop a kiss on my cheek. He quietly tells me to have a great evening and then leaves through the front door.

Grissom kisses me full on the lips and tells me he loves me before leaving. A funny thought comes into my mind. I can't help but wonder how long it'll be before Grissom tries to initiate sex. Or for that matter until I do.

The door clicks shut a few moments later, and I'm left alone. Well, not technically. I have my new buddy still sleeping on me, and Hank also. Letting out a deep sigh, I snuggle back into the couch just to savor the feeling of being alone. The only sound in the room is the delicate purr of the kitten, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. I don't know how long I was out, but later on, I startle awake when I feel something licking my hand.

I jump a little in my skin until I realize it's Hank. His dark eyes are looking up at me from the edge of the coach. It's his 'feed me' look. As I gently move the kitten off me and onto the couch, I realize I've drifted off long enough to have had a dream. It's one of those vague dreams, where I can only remember little pieces. I haven't dreamt in so long – probably due to the hospital bed and being woken constantly by nurses. All I can remember about it is…Nick. I was with Nick and we were laughing together.

I let out another deep sigh. The dream sure didn't hurt. I walk into the kitchen and find Hank some of the good stuff – his favorite Iams soft food. When I turn around, there's two huge green eyes staring back at me from the floor, surrounded by fluff. It meows at me.

"Hey, little guy," I scoop him up in my arms and I realize – while Nick was very thoughful in bringing me this little furball, this house is entirely unprepared for a kitten. Pretty soon, I need to go out and buy him food, and a litter box. After Hank has finished eating, I take the kitten back to Grissom's bedroom where he can sleep safely. Hank's a sweet dog, but I don't want to leave them alone together just yet. I close the door behind me and then look around in the living room for my purse and keys.

I start driving down the road to the twenty-four hour department store that I've always preferred shopping at but I realize that I haven't driven in so long, and I missed it. My older brother, Peetree (Peter), and I used to go for drives all the time. It was our way of winding down, learning new things about the places we were, and I always had fun. He was ten years older than me and had aged out of foster care before it really mattered but even though I haven't seen or spoken to him in a number of years, driving has always kept him close to me in a weird way. Ryan's middle name is Peter. I can't help but remember that I'd honored him in my son's name as I drive around.

The planned trip to the store for kitten supplies has become more of an aimless drive, but I like it. I really haven't had the opportunity in a long time, since before Grissom and I got together. It's always been one of my best methods of clearing my thoughts and enjoying the surroundings of my life. I'm frequently finding new roads to adventure while doing cases, errands, anything. It's one of the reasons I've always known any city I've lived in like the back of my hand.

I catch myself driving through a familiar neighborhood and then spot a house I've been in hundreds of times over the last few years. I feel like I might as well stop by for a visit, since I'm already in the neighborhood. I stop the engine and walk towards the door, wondering what Catherine's going to say when she sees me. I almost wish I'd grabbed a few beers. Gazing in the front window I look to see if anyone is home beside Catherine. She's sitting on the couch reading something on her laptop and seems completely alone. So, I lean up and knock on the door.

The door slowly opens a few moments later, and Catherine looks pleased to see me up and about. "Sara!" We've never been ones to hug, but in this instance we do as she lets me into her home. I'm always amazed that despite how busy she is, Catherine's house always seems to look emmaculate. I think she must have a maid, or else she gives poor Lindsey tons of chores. "Come on in."

"Thanks. I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd just drop in." I follow her into the living room and sit on one of her over-sized light beige couches. It seems to swallow me up every time I've sat down in one of them. As Cath sits down, she moves her laptop so it's on the table and out of the way. "I hope it's not a bad time."

"Oh, no. Not at all. I was just checking my e-mail. So…I heard from Lindsey you got a new kitten today."

I can't hold back my smirk as I think of the tiny animal waiting for me back home. "Yeah, he's adorable. Lindsey did a great job picking him out with Nick. I actually need to still go out and get a litter box and food for it."

"And what does Gil think about it?" She casually tucks her legs to her side as she waits for my answer. I smile a little uncomfortably for a moment and begin to play with the hem of my jeans leg.

"He…he's fine with it." I tell her, not making eye contact. I instead focus my eyes on the coffee table, wondering if I really want to open up this can of worms. Cath and I haven't always been close. In fact, we started out as enemies, but the last few years, especially, that has changed. She's one of the few females in my life I trust. "But Catherine. I…I have to admit I'm starting to have mixed feelings about Grissom."

"Starting to?" Catherine says to me with a chuckle. "I remember you and I starting this conversation a few days ago when he proposed. I take it you're a little more sure you're not ready to marry him?"

"No, I'm not." I realize that she may not know what I'm referring to so I can't help but laugh at myself a bit. "I mean, I'm not sure that I'm ready to marry him. You know... when I married Alexander I may have known that it wasn't forever but I absolutely wasn't scared at all. I just knew that he was already so much of my life, you know? Marrying him was the easiest decision I've ever had to make."

"Well," Catherine looks like she's trying to figure out how to word her question. "If you took the looming wedding out of the picture do you think you'd be more comfortable with Gil? Or... is it just over?"

"I honestly don't know," I admit to her. I never expected to dive right in to this conversation with Catherine, but I do trust her opinions. "It could just be that I'm not ready to marry him and the idea has me a little freaked. Maybe I'd feel better if I asked him to put of the engagement... or... maybe not. I don't know. I'm just not sure my heart's still in it. If Warrick asked you to marry him tomorrow, what would you say?"

Catherine chuckles to herself for a moment, as if thrown by the question. For years, they've been running circles around each other, neither willing to take the first step. Now they've been on a date, and it went fantasically. Everyone knew they were perfect for each other, but they've always been to chicken. Now that something's actually going on between them, it makes me want them to get together even more.

"Um," She clears her throat a little, "Well, you know, we've only been on one date, Sara." She points out logically, avoiding the question.

I give her a look. "You've known him for almost fifteen years, Catherine. That counts for something."

Catherine mindlessly brushes some invisible fluff off the pillow she's leaning against, obviously uncomfortable with the way the conversation is heading. I know she's thought about it. I know she wonders what being married to Warrick would be like.

"Anyways. Back to you and Gil." She shooks me a smirky glare across the way. "Do you think maybe you've always seen Gil as someone you'd always just date and never marry? Is it the finality of marriage that's scaring you?"

I study my fingernails and work at a tiny piece of dirt that's managed to creep under the nail. "Maybe. I mean, our relationship was secret for years, and I'd had that crush on him since I was his student. I guess it seems like it would never really happen and now that it is…" I gesture my hands mindlessly, "I don't think it's what I want."

I can see that Catherine is just glad she dodged my question because she still can't look me in the eye. I wonder if it's because she's about to give me advice that's the opposite of what she's thinking herself, "if you're not ready to marry him Sara, don't. In the end you'll both be unhappy. If you don't wait until you're ready you'll both be unhappy in the end. You just have to ask yourself... is he what you want at all anymore?"

"Honestly?" I ask her. Then, for a fleeting moment I realize that she's just admitted to me that she had a great date with Warrick. I'll have to pressure her about details on that one another time. I chew my lip as I wait for her to respond to my simple question.

"Sara you don't have to be honest with me," she tells me. Then I can see it on her lips before she even says it. There's going to be a but, "But you have to be honest with yourself."

"Honest then," I decide. I think long and hard about everything I've been feeling lately and about everything I used to feel. Something changed. "Honestly, I... I don't want to be with Gil at all anymore. I don't think I could ever be happy with him having that role in my life anymore. I know I don't want to lose his friendship... but I can't let him be the only man in my life anymore."

I don't know if I'm picking my son over Grssom. Or, perhaps, my husband? Or... another man. Or, perhaps it's all of the above. Still, I've just realized that I can never again be what Grissom wants or needs and I'm pretty sure I don't even want to try. I need to take control of my own life.

"Catherine, can I use your phone?"

"Sure." I nod and walk towards the kitchen so I can have a little privacy. Without giving myself any more time to think or talk myself out of it, I dial the number.

I kinda surprise myself as I sit in Catherine's kitchen waiting for the phone to be answered on the other end. My hands aren't shaking. I'm feeling confident. This must really be what I want. Finally, a male voice picks up. "Alexander, will you take me back to Cali with you? I want to go home."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So you are all very lucky that we've finished it, lol just kidding. I'm super sorry that this took so long. We kinda suck. Really, it's just that we put so much thought and effort into each chapter. Next time we're going to explore the whole Sara thing so don't fret. We think there's something in this chapter for everyone, I hope we're right. Also don't forget to catch our next installment in Cheaper By The Half Dozen on Bauerfreak's profile. Please do us the honor of leaving us a review.

-LLK and Bauerfreak

* * *

_Symphony of Change_

_Chapter 9_

My hands are starting to prune. Generally I take that as a sign that I've been swimming for too long but today I'm not sure that's how I see it. Right now I see the pruning as a challenge to see if I can get other parts of my body to shrivel up a bit. As long as I'm in this pool the world has gone back to normal. It's spinning on its own axis and I don't have to feel guilty because I'm happier than I've ever been in years.

The problem is that my friends aren't happy. Greg, poor kid, is especially unhappy. He's Sara's friend. Her pal. Her confidante. That means that even though I was the one that she talked to before she left, Grissom feels like it was probably Greg's fault. That means that Grissom's misery is manifesting itself in the form of some pretty grotesque decomp cases on Greg's docket.

That's something else I feel guilty about. I haven't fessed up that I was the culprit for telling Sara that she had to follow her heart. I don't regret it. I was protecting my friend. Whether or not he knows it, Grissom's heart would have shattered if she'd left him a year into their marriage. While he's trying to nurse a broken heart and supervise a team of crime scene analysts at the same time; I'm at his right hand struggling to control my elation at the romance I've suddenly found myself a part of, which isn't exactly easy.

The problem is that I don't really want to hide my happiness and I know Warrick doesn't either. Nothing is official yet, which I hope we fix soon, but I've been on a constant high since our date and I want to share it with the world.

I can't help but look back down at the pale wrinkled tone of my fingers again before I plunge back into my pool. Here I am challenging myself to prune my toes as well when I know full well that if I'd ever caught my daughter in the pool alone I would have been livid. "Six, sixteen, or sixty," I would tell her. "Swimming alone is dangerous." I've seen too many accidental drownings in my line of work. Still, I can't help it. I have to work my frustration out somewhere...

In my heart, I know I should go to Grissom and tell him that I talked to Sara. Greg sure doesn't deserve to get the brunt of his frustration and sorrow. Truthfully, it isn't really my fault at all, though. I really just let Sara talk out her feelings, and helped her realize that she and Grissom just weren't meant to be. It was kind of for their own good, really. Like I tell Lindsey when I tell her to get off her Instant Messenger after she's been on for four straight hours instead of doing her homework. Okay, it's not quite the same, but you get my point. If Sara hadn't left him now, they'd just be miserable not too far down the road.

Not only have Grissom and all my coworkers been bummed out about Sara leaving abruptly, but Lindsey hasn't taken it too well either. At first, I was a little puzzled. She and Sara have never been particularly close. Really, they've only been around each other occasionally. It's not like they'd formed a close friendship or anything. I've concluded that it must be because of Ryan. While she hadn't been thrilled at all about letting him hang out with her the other week, they must have hit it off. With him gone, she seems down. Or maybe I'm just reading things completely wrong, and it's something else entirely. Who knows with teenage girls, really? I can't remember being this dramatic when I was her age.

Anyways, I've decided to leave it alone, at least for now. Usually, if Lindsey wants to talk about something, she'll come to me. We don't always get along, but still, she wants to come to me when she's having trouble with something. So I'm not at all worried that whatever it is that's bothering her won't eventually come to the surface.

And I'm not exactly thrilled Sara's up and moved back to California. We've been through some rough times, but I count her as one of my good friends. When I was attacked, she was the only woman I trusted to call, because I knew she'd approach it with a level head. I'll miss her, and while I'm elated about my prospects with Warrick, my heart is still heavy.

As I resurface from diving back in, I hear my cell phone ringing from the table where my towel is sitting. I quickly pull myself up at the side of the pool and get out, then carefully shuffle over to dry off the best I can.

In spite of my attempts to get to the phone before it finishes ringing I don't quite make it in time. As I close my hand around it I hear it chime letting me know that I've received a voice mail. I consider for a second that I ought to listen to it but change my mind after a glance at my missed calls list. It was Warrick, surely telling me how his case is doing in court.

It's the Josten case from last June and while I know that Warrick is confident he's going to get the conviction there is a lot of red tape that he's going to have to sift through. I smile a bit to myself thinking about him sitting in the court room all day. He'll be decked out to the nines in a suit and tie, something I don't get to see nearly often enough.

I decide, once and for all, to forgo the voice mail and call him back. After a couple of rings I hear his voice, husky and low, answer, "hey Cath."

"Hey you," I say back to him. For some reason my voice has fallen to match his. "What's up?"

"Just calling to see how your day was going," he says to me. I remember a time when he used to call me just to see how my day was going back before Eddie and I'd even officially split. Eddie had answered the phone and told him that as long as I was his wife he wasn't going to be happy about Warrick calling. I've missed it. "Were you busy?"

"No, just in the pool," I explain to him.

"Oh," he says, too knowingly.

"Just needed a quick swim to clear my head," I answer, giving him a little bit of information. "You know, the Sara business and all." I pause for a moment. "How's the case going?"

"I think the evidence is going to hold up," he tells me after a deep breath. "They questioned the grocery bag I found the prints on but I think the phone records are solid."

Despite the hot Las Vegas sun, I start to shiver. Maybe it's the moisture on my wet skin, or maybe it's just Warrick's voice. He always talks kind of low when he's at court, and it adds a whole new level of sexiness to his voice. I try to focus on his words, not on the cool, smooth velvety goodness of his voice.

"Well, sounds like you've got this one in the bag," I tell him as I manage to single-handedly wrap a towel around my body. Once I have this accomplished, I start to work at my soaking wet hair, squeezing some of the moisture out onto the hot pavement.

"I hope so," he comments as I hear him walking through the hall, "I really hope they wrap this up soon, cause I'm starving, and I left my lunch back at the lab."

"Well, I could fix you a sandwich and bring it over," I offer him as I switch the phone to my other ear. Anything to see Warrick in his suit. Though I'd much rather see him in his birthday suit. Did I just think that?

"Well I don't want to interrupt your swimming party," he teases me a bit, and I can practically see him biting his bottom lip, his pearly white teeth gleaming. Gosh, his smile makes me melt every time.

"It's hardly a party," I tell him as I quickly try to towel off my legs so I can get his lunch and get ready. Suddenly I feel mortified that my hair is soaking wet and that he'll see me without my hair all coiffed and perfect. Maybe if I hurry I'll have a chance to quickly blow dry it, at least. We make arrangements for what type of sandwich he wants, and where to meet in the courthouse. I decide that I'll make one for myself also and just eat lunch with him. We hang up, and I head inside to prepare.

I luckily find a fair share of turkey, lettuce, mayonnaise, and tomato in my refrigerator, so I pull out a loaf of bread and start throwing our sandwiches together. I find a bag of potato chips in the cupboard, and throw in a couple of apples. It feels strangely domestic, and kind of nice, really, to make lunch for Warrick. It feels like something that a girlfriend would do for her boyfriend, or a wife for her husband. I smile to myself as I throw a couple napkins into the small cooler.

After I track down the last two bottles of water, which Lindsey had moved from their place in the fridge to the freezer, I look at my cell phone and realize I only have twenty minutes to get to the courthouse to meet Warrick at the start of his lunch recess. With traffic the way it usually is at lunch hour I'll be lucky if I make it in twenty five. I simply don't have time to dry off my hair like I'd hoped.

I resign to let it stay a little wet as I towel it off once more and crimp some mousse into it. I'll look like a drowned rat either way but if I'm lucky my hair will be a little more dry and curly by the time I reach the courthouse.

On my way out the door I double check to make sure that I have my keys to the CSI building, since I'm already going to be on that side of town I want to pick up the outfit in my locker so I can wash it. After I final glance through the cooler I drop it on the passenger's side seat and back my car out of the driveway.

The ride passes fairly quickly in my excitement to see Warrick and then odd enjoyment I took from listening to a couple of old Michael Bolton songs on the radio. I realize as I check my car into the three-hour parking garage that I've made pretty good time and should be arriving in the courtyard outside of the west wing of the building at about the same time Warrick is, and I quicken my pace a bit. I can't help but feel excited to see him.

I try to avoid the inside of the courthouse whenever possible, so I find an empty bench in the courtyard which is shaded by a nearby tree and set down the cooler. Instead of wandering in to find him, I pull out my cell phone and speed dial his phone. He's just gotten out, so he tells me he'll be out in just a minute. We hang up, and I begin to unpack the lunch I've prepared for us. As I set the waters out on the bench, still thawing from being in the freezer (thanks, Lindsey), the door swings open and Warrick walks out, loosening his tie, with his suit jacket already off. I have an eye orgasm.

I try to act nonchalant, smiling as he spots me and walks over to the small bench. When he gets close, I stand up to greet him. He leans over and gives me a quick peck on the lips. We haven't gotten to kiss all that much, so every single kiss is still so exciting. I can't imagine any of Warrick's kisses ever being boring. His green eyes twinkle at me in the sun as we sit down on the bench.

"Well, isn't this nice," he comments, looking over the contents of the lunch I've brought. "Thank you so much for bringing it over."

"Not a problem. I was about to eat lunch anyway," I say as I take my sandwich out of the wrapping I so thoughtfully put on. As I'm doing this, Warrick has picked up his water, and is examining it curiously. "Sorry, Lindsey put 'em in the freezer," I apologize.

"That little punk," he jokes. If anyone else called my kid a punk, they'd have hell to pay, but with Warrick it's okay. I know he loves Lindsey to death, even when she's being a teenager like she has been lately. "I'm sure it'll turn back to water here in just a few minutes with this heat."

We both start to eat our sandwiches and Warrick shares the few things he can about the case he's here for. Going to court is pretty much every CSI's least favorite part of the job, but we all know we have to do it. No matter how many times you've testified, sitting up in that chair, the full attention of the court on you, is still intimidating.

Eventually, the subject turns to the whole Grissom and Sara situation. It's such big news, it's hard to avoid conversation about it. "Have you run into Grissom at all today?" I ask as we move on to eating our apples.

"I stopped by his office on my way in to see Brass about today," he gestured back inside the court building. "He looked like hell and I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten since she left."

"He hasn't," I confirm for him. He raises his eyebrow at me as the beautiful smile falls off of his face. I explain, "that's just his way. Grissom's not the superman everyone expects him to be. When he has something on his mind he forgets to eat."

"That why you always keep apples around the lab?" Warrick asks me as he takes the last bite of the one I'd brought for him and I can't help but chuckle a bit. For all the others make fun of me for insisting on bringing apples into the lab with me every evening but I've never heard any of them complain when it's all that's there for them to eat.

"Yeah," I admit to Warrick as I see the smile start to spread back over his face. "I've done it since the first child murder case he and I worked together. He didn't eat anything the whole time we were on that one."

"Well for some reason I think this time his problems are a more severe and that an apple isn't going to fix things this time," he takes my hand and I feel a tingle at the base of my spine.

"I know that it sucks but it had to happen," I tell him, thinking about the things Sara said to me. "Something in Sara changed and in the end it was going to pull them apart. At least this way his heart doesn't have to be any more broken."

"Break-ups suck," he tells me. I have to admit that I agree. I squeeze his hand a little bit and want to lean forward to kiss him, but I don't. Something in me really wants to tell him that neither of us are ever going to have to worry about that again.

"Yeah," I agree, looking down at our joined hands. The mood has taken a slight downturn since discussing Grissom and Sara, so Warrick attempts to lighten the mood by nudging my thumb with his. I smirk as his thumb tries to bully me into a thumb war, and I relent. Like a pair of teenagers, we sit there and play best two out of three. He wins, and of course, he has to vocally declare my defeat.

As I laugh, he lets his hand drop and he just looks me in the eye for a few long moments, like I'm the most interesting thing he's ever looked at. I bite my lip and look away for a moment. Eddie never made me feel this special; never gazed at me longingly, and certainly never had a thumb war with me. I love how Warrick can be so thoughtful and romantic, and then playful and childish. It's the dichotomy between the two that I adore so much.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," he says softly a few moments later, "the loser has to kiss the winner." He makes his eyebrows jump suggestively and I have to laugh out loud.

"Is that right?" I ask, reaching out to ruffle the collar on his dress shirt. I'm not sure why. What a teenager girl thing to do, but that's the effect Warrick seems to have on me. I scoot closer a little on the bench, all the while examining his lips as I bite my own. He nods and gives a little 'mmmhmmm' sound, and the deepness of his vocal chords make my heart flutter again. Without another word, and not thinking about the fact there are other people in the courtyard around us, I lean forward and capture his lips slowly in mine. Our mouths gently, lazily work with each other, my eyes closed, fully surrendering to the kiss. After about ten seconds of sheer bliss, I pull away, though our noses are practically touching. We both open our eyes and grin at each other.

"Oh, and did I mention the loser also has to give the winner a back massage?" He lightens the mood again before it can get too serious. This time, I playfully slap him on the bicep.

"You wish," I comment, though truthfully I wouldn't mind. Running my hands over his well-defined muscles sure wouldn't be a chore. "Don't you have a courtroom to get back to?"

Warrick checks his watch and nods reluctantly as he stands up. I get up with him, shoving wrappers and apple cores back into the cooler to clean up later at home. I feel Warrick tug on my wrist, asking me to worry about that part later so we can have a few more moments together.

I don't want to go home. Part of me, actually, wants to follow him into the courtroom and sit there with him for the rest of the day but that wouldn't say much for his credibility on the stand. Judges don't tend to take kindly to witnesses who bring their girlfriends along with them to work. Am I his girlfriend though? I feel like such a child wondering.

I feel him run his hand down my wrist and wrap it around my fingers and we wander the long way back around the courtyard towards the door, he pulls me close. Then a moment I've been dreading a little bit happens. He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair out of my face.

"I love it when you wear your hair curly," he whispers to me as he closes the gap between us and kisses me again. I have to think about what he said to register it, and then I can't help but grin even through the kiss. I know for a fact that he also likes my hair straight, especially when I'm wearing my glasses. I grin a bit more and I feel him pull away, "what?"

"You," I confess. "Me. This. I like it."

He smirks at me, and I feel his thumb gently move back and forth a couple times against my face. I briefly wonder what my hair must look like. I hadn't had a chance to wash it, so it was still covered in chlorine, and with the humidity today, it was probably frizzing. Even so, I felt beautiful in that moment, and so did Warrick apparently. "Me too," he whispers before he leans in for another kiss.

We could have stood there making out for a good while, but Warrick pulls away, mumbling something about getting back to the damn case. There's this electricity between us – there always has been – but now, instead of a few flashes of lightning every once in a while, it's like a lightning storm. There's no escaping the feelings I have for Warrick, and as he lets go of me and winks as he heads in the other direction, I know I don't want to suppress them any more. Not because of work, not because of Lindsey. I need Warrick, and that's all there is to it.

"Can I call you when I get off work?" He turns and walks backwards as he asks me. I yell back that yes, he can, and watch him walk down the hall until he turns and disappears. I stand there for a few moments and let out a long sigh. Before, I had to settle for days sometimes without seeing Warrick, but now it seems counting the hours is sheer torture.

I gather up the cooler and find my keys in my purse, then head back to the car. After a good lunch, the heat, and all the smooching, I'm definitely feeling a little sleepy. Since it's my day off and Lindsey's still at school, I decide on the way home to indulge in a little nap. Nothing too long, but a quick snooze to pass the time.

That's what I intended to do, anyway, but apparently my body had other ideas. I wake up a few hours later when I hear the front door shut and overhear Lindsey chatting away on her cell phone to someone. That girl better not have been chatting while she was driving. Teenagers and driving makes me nervous to begin with. I sit up and bed and look at the clock. It was after 4:30. Dammit! I was gonna do laundry and clean the bathrooms, but I guess that will likely have to wait. Quickly, I dart into the bathroom and put my hair up in a ponytail, adjust my skewed clothing, so I look like I've been doing something, and not sleeping.

I make my way out of the bedroom to the kitchen, where Lindsey is finding herself a snack in one of the cupboards. It's Monday, one of her ballet days. I'm so glad she decided to stick with dancing over the years. She's gotten pretty good, though I may be a little biased, being her mother and all. Lindsey's landed several solos in her dance company's recitals, so I know I'm not totally crazy in thinking my daughter's a dance phenom.

Lindsey notices me come into the room and has to pull the phone away from her mouth to chuckle at me. She points to my hair, which I didn't put up as well as I'd thought, not that I'm surprised. It is full of all kinds of chemicals. I watch my daughter return the phone to her ear and say her goodbyes with her friend. That's one thing I love about her. When I'm home and it's just the two of us she tries limit the amount that her friends infringe on our time.

I pop a bag of popcorn and wander into the living room to enjoy it on the couch when she follows me in, still laughing a bit. "You look like you slept in your clothes."

"I did," I tell her. "Kind of. I was swimming and Warrick called so I took him some lunch and then when I got back I went up to lay down for a bit and now it's four hours later."

"So Warrick was the one who used up all of your lipstick?" she teases me, pointing to my lips which apparently don't have any gloss left on them at all. She starts to say something else but just starts chuckling again.

Even in spite of the way she's making fun of me I can tell that something is off. She isn't usually this easy to entertain in mid afternoon. I put a hand out and grab her arm and pull her gently onto the couch next to me. "How was your day?" I ask her, hoping it was a good place to start what I hope will be a revealing conversation.

She sighed one of those woe-is-me dramatic sighs she has perfected over the years and plops down apathetically next to me on the couch. She mumbles something and then grabs a fistful of popcorn and shoves it into her mouth. I notice she's still got her ballet gear on underneath her track pants and shirt, based on the telling signs of her leotard lines.

"Fine," she tells me, and crunches down on her popcorn, "School was boring as usual and Ms. Harmon was in a really bad mood. She's an arm nazi. If they're not in perfect position, she goes all crazy, and we had to start over, like four times because Rebecca kept messing the number up."

I nod as I listen to her go on about the drama that is her ballet school. Sometimes the girls could be pretty catty with each other, and I don't count my daughter out of that. When it's audition time, the girls practically glare daggers at each other, all vying for the same parts. "Well, at least on Wednesday you'll have your solo lesson. How's that coming?"

"Okay," she mumbles some more, and I notice she hasn't really been looking at me. Because she knows if she does, I'll be able to tell for sure something's bothering her, and I'll start asking questions. I don't pry, mind you, but sometimes Lindsey needs just a little coaxing to let me help with her problems. "I've learned about half of it, but it's pretty hard."

"I know you'll do great," I tell her, in the clichéd mother phrase. Lindsey tells me all the time that I have to say that sort of thing because I'm her mother. That may be true, but that's what mothers are for.

"Yeah, I hope so," she reaches down and dusts something off her pant leg, then looks at her toes. Lindsey always complains about having ugly toes because of wearing her Pointe shoes. She can't really get pedicures because they get messed up almost straight away, so her toenails are plain and bare, as usual. At least in the summer, the dance company takes a break and she can splurge a little on red toenail polish.

Lindsey surprises me when she takes in a deep breath and blurts, "Chad and I broke up today." She seemed to be avoiding any talk about what might be bothering her, so her sudden confession catches me a little off guard. But, being the stellar mother that I am, I take it in stride, sit up a little, and wait for her to explain. "Well, I broke up with him. He won't stop calling me, but I don't think he's the type of guy I want to date anymore, you know?"

"Well it isn't a secret that I wasn't his biggest fan," I tell her honestly with an attempt at a smile. "But breakups can be hard even if you're the one that initiated them. Are you okay sweetheart?"

She ignores my question, "I mean I really like Chad and he was a great guy. Sometimes. But I think I want a boyfriend that respects me all the time." She stops for a minute. It's obvious she's thinking about something. "The other night Ryan was ready to get his ass kicked for me. And then we got home and Warrick and I talked and Mom... I just felt like he had my back. I know that's because he loves you so much and if you can find a guy that loves you as much as Warrick does, even if you won't admit it yet, either of you, well then I want a guy like that too."

I can't help but smile at my little girl. Well, my daughter, she's showing a great deal of maturity at the moment. "Well have you met that guy yet?" I ask her.

"No..." she pauses. "But if Ryan is really the kind of guy that he came off as then I guess really good guys still do exist. Even my age."

"So you okay?" I ask her again, putting my arm around her and pulling her closer to me. I drop a couple of kisses in her hair and I can tell that she's feeling upset because she doesn't shove me off of her or pull away. "Baby I know it really sucks right now but you're not going to regret this. You deserve everything you want and more," I pause for a moment. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother."

She just nods a little bit and rests her head against my shoulder. I gently smooth a few wayward pieces of hair down, just enjoying the sensation of Lindsey being so close to me. She truly does deserve the best, and it's a huge relief that Lindsey realizes that. Chad was a good guy for the most part, like she said, but he had moments where he could be a real jerk. He was smart, and never acted like that in front of me (probably because he knew I'd open a can of you know what), but I'd heard about incidents from Lindsey. I always hoped Lindsey would realize she was better than that; that she didn't deserve to be treated disrespectfully, not even for a second.

"You want some ice cream?" I offer her, a trick that's worked many times over the years to cheer her up. I've been through break ups before, though, and I'm fully aware that eating ice cream after a break up is practically like putting a band aid on a broken arm. It will take time, but Lindsey will bounce back from this and find a guy that's truly worthy of her.

"Do we have rocky road?" She lifts her head up and looks at me hopefully, like she's a little girl again.

I smile and nod my head. "Of course."

I stand up and head into the kitchen to fix her a cone. Just as I'm squeezing the ice cream down a little more, my cell phone rings on the counter. I pick it up and carry the cone over to my daughter, who has since turned on MTV. She tells me thanks as I flip my phone open. I smile when I see on the caller ID that it's Warrick. It's his dinner break, and he asks if he can pick me up something and come over. Of course, I happily tell him yes. He takes down my order, and also a request for a cheeseburger from Lindsey, and we hang up.

Lindsey leans her head back on the couch and grins at me knowingly. "So romantic," she teases me. I grab a pillow from the other side of the couch and smack her on the head with it.

"Since when is Burger King romantic?" I retort.

"Since it's getting delivered to you personally," she points out, licking at her ice cream cone.

I can't help but agree with her logic and I feel a blush fill my cheeks. Why is it that I'm reverting to a teenager? Not that I mind really, because it's such a great feeling. That giggly, happy, butterfly feeling that comes along with being in love with someone. Though I'm not sure I'm supposed to use the L word yet, this early in the relationship.

It's eerie hearing myself say it out loud. Well, not out loud, but in my head aloud. I do love him though, and I know I do. I guess it's okay that I'm in love with him because I've had so much time to fall. After so many years of working together and such a close friendship I suppose it was inevitable that I'd fall in love with him. I think we're going on our fifteenth or sixteenth year of friendship and ever since the beginning I've shared a closeness with him that I'm not sure I've ever had with another man. A part of me has always known that I was in love with him but now that it can all be real it's making me feel a little bit nervous.

What if he doesn't really feel the way about me that I feel about him? I mean the last time I thought he liked me he ended up married.

"Maybe for your next date, you could go to Golden Corral," she teases me more. I grab the bun on top of Lindsey's head and give it a little shake and squint my eyes at her. She just smiles and goes back to licking her ice cream cone.

"Watch it, missy," I tell her and head into the kitchen to do some cleaning up. Lindsey turns her attention back to the latest waif who is doing something resembling singing on the tv, but mostly just shaking her ass. It's not long before we both hear the doorbell ring. I'm in the midst of scrubbing down some dishes in the sink, so Lindsey gets up to answer it.

"Warrick!" she greets him rather spunkily. I can't see what's going on, but it's interesting how just a week ago, she was burning holes in him with her eyes, and now they're best buds again. Warrick just has that effect on her sometimes, I suppose. I pull the plug on the sink and dry my hands on the towel that hangs on the oven door. Quickly, I run my hands through my hair, hoping I look presentable. "Do you have my cheeseburger?"

I begin to walk into the living room as Warrick and Lindsey come around the corner. Warrick opens up the bag and produces a burger all wrapped up in white paper and hands it to an obviously elated Lindsey. "No pickles, extra ketchup," he tells her, knowing her favorite order well.

Lindsey grins at him and gives him a quick hug as she skips back to the couch. Warrick digs in the bag a little more and produces my own sandwich, which I accept with a smirk. "Hey," I greet him softly as he leans forward. Our lips meet in a chaste, but sweet kiss, which I can feel him smile into.

"I'm trying to eat here," Lindsey retorts from her place on the couch. She's facing away from us, but she still feels the urge to tease us even if she can't see it. Warrick picks up a magazine resting on the side table and gives her a light swat on top of the head. I have to chuckle a little at the look she gives him. She jokes around with me plenty, but when Warrick's around and they tease back and forth…I can't quite explain it, but Lindsey seems to come to life even more. Lindsey adores him; she's always adored him, apart from a few select moments like when he got her in trouble last week. She had a father in Eddie, but it just seems she's found a dad in Warrick.

"Mom, are you gonna let him do that?" Lindsey asks jokingly. "You're just gonna stand there while he beats me?"

I ignore my daughter's pleas for a moment as I dig into the cardboard box holding my sandwich. The bacon cheeseburger tab is punched in and I can't help but grin. Now I have a reason to take my daughter's side. I drop the sandwich on the table, still in its package, and sneak up behind Warrick. Before I know it I've flung myself onto his back and pushed him down onto the couch.

As Lindsey shifts away from him and starts hitting him with a pillow he groans, "hey you're supposed to be on my side."

"Well maybe if you'd gotten my order right servant boy," I tease him, tickling the spot on his back between his shoulder blades. "Then maybe I would be on your side."

"Hey... you... aren't... supposed... to... know..." he starts panting through giggles. Finally he shifts under my weight like I don't even exist and drops me on his lap at the same time leaning forward and taking the pillow from Lindsey's hand. He throws it at her head and continues, "that I was ticklish. That's top secret."

"Well it's not top secret that I don't eat bacon," I say as I connect the palm of my hand with his forehead. "Now I'm gonna have to go make my own supper."

"Did you even bother to open the box?" He asks me and gently repeats the gesture, hitting my forehead with the palm of his hand. "I ordered you a chicken club sans bacon, just like you requested."

"Oh," I say blushing a bit and pulling myself away from him to go back to the kitchen and investigate my sandwich. I didn't even know that Burger King served chicken clubs until Warrick had mentioned it earlier.

I'm fishing through the sandwich to make sure that there aren't any traces of bacon and begin slowly removing the browned pieces of lettuce when I hear a noise in the other room. I turn to look behind me and I see Warrick and Lindsey both sitting on the floor with their backs against the front of the couch. Lindsey is giggling so hard her entire face has turned a plum shade of red. "I'm going to get you Warrick!" she says harshly before rearing back and swinging a pillow at his face full force. To her displeasure I watch him catch it within an inch of his face and stop it cold in the air. With another twist of his hand he has the pillow in his possession and starts hitting her shoulder with it. I catch myself laughing quietly as I watch.

I always told myself that if I ever did marry again, I'd find someone who'd be a good father to Lindsey. I've always wondered if that's fair to the men I've dated since Eddie died, but I always knew it was. Lindsey had to come first. She deserved that. As I watch Warrick simultaneously tickle and swat her with the pillow, I know in my heart he fits the bill. I've always loved him; even when I was married to Eddie, and the last few months I've realized that it's really possible. I could have Warrick, if he'll have me, and I know Lindsey would be thrilled.

Lindsey shrieks with laughter again as Warrick tickles her, without any sign of letting up on her. I sigh and shake my head as I head over to sit on the other couch with my chicken club, sans lettuce. "You two better stop teasing each other and eat before your burgers get cold," I say as Lindsey fights back half-heartedly now. She's no match for Warrick. He lets up on her and she manages to duck out of the way and back up onto the couch. A lot of her hair has fallen out of her previously immaculate bun, which she quickly tries to fix.

"Gosh, a girl can't even eat a cheeseburger in peace around here," she mutters as she finally picks her cheeseburger back up to finish it. Warrick gives her a bit of a mock glare as he finally takes his own sandwich out of the bag. At the flip of a hat, the child at heart in her comes out, and she has to tell him all about her ballet endeavors. "Hey, Warrick, guess what?"

"You're gonna join the circus?" He guesses before taking a big bite of his burger. She glares at him and punches his arm.

"No. I have another solo in the ballet this year," she brags and stands up chewing what's left of her burger. Despite being a girl, she can eat like a guy, shoving a burger down in a couple minutes flat. "Wanna see what I learned last week?"

"Of course," he tells her. Lindsey holds her burger in her left hand as her arms take a familiar pose, her body becoming slightly rigid but poised. Despite the limited amount of room, she demonstrates a few moves, none of which I know the name of, and Warrick watches with his full attention. He smiles as she sarcastically hums out the song she knows so well; her musical accompaniment, and dances flawlessly. As she finishes she raises her arms up in the air, and promptly takes another bite of her burger.

I smile and lean forward wrapping my arms around Warrick's neck and letting my hands fall on his chest. I drop a kiss on his cheek. Well it's more right below his ear lobe, and then drop another. It's really nice to have him here and be able to relax with him. It's even nicer to have him here and be able to kiss him.

"What time do you have to go back to the courthouse?" I ask him, loudly enough so that Lindsey heard the question too. Then more quietly I say in his ear, "because I don't really want to let you go."

Warrick fidgets for a moment but I can tell it's only to tease me. Finally he looks up from his watch and says, "they recessed until tomorrow. So it looks like I'm missing another day of work, but that means I have the rest of the night to do with as I please."

It's Lindsey's turn to fidget next to us as she realizes that we're about to get all mushy. I know that deep down it makes her happy though. She's been pulling for us since before I was. "Well if you're gonna be staying till all hours of the night you better be prepared for eating ice cream and watching a chick flick marathon," Lindsey teases Warrick. "Because some of us aren't in the relationship bliss that you are."

"You and Chad broke up?" Warrick asks her with an arched eyebrow. "I guess I'm sorry to hear that Linds."

"I'm not," she says to him hotly, though I can tell she's more irritated with herself at the moment. She's upset over a breakup that she initiated. Every woman hates the feeling.

"You dumped him?" he asks her. When she nods he gets that big, happy, grin on his face that I've grown to love. "Good."

"I figured I could find better," she tells him, as he pulls her over for a quick hug and a kiss to her head.

"I know you can," Warrick says. I know he's probably as elated as I am that she's not with Chad any more. He definitely didn't treat her right, and it was hard to just stand by and watch my little girl wonder what she was doing wrong. "I'm proud of you."

She gives him a small smile. I don't know how many times we've both told her that Chad wasn't quite up to par in the boyfriend department. It didn't matter how many times we told her or tried to make her see all that was wrong; it took her believing for herself that she deserved better. I was definitely with Warrick – I was proud she stood up for herself.

She sighs and pats her knees a couple times. "Well, I've got plenty of homework to do, so I'll leave you two alone," she says and wags her eyebrows at me. I spurt out a bit of laughter in embarrassment. It's not fair that Lindsey now knows all about grown up things. She gets up and leans down to give me a hug, and does the same with Warrick. It feels so domestic, the three of us sitting here like we're a nice little family. It feels like a family to me, anyway.

"Good luck," Warrick tells her, patting her on the back. "Let me know if you need any help with science."

"I will," she promises him as she picks up her backpack and goes up the stairs to her bedroom. Finally, I'm alone with my man, so I scoot a little closer to him on the couch. He moves his hand up to my face and gently cups my cheek inside it as he looks into my eyes. We don't even speak, just instantly begin to do what we've been longing to do all day. We both lean in and capture each other's lips in a soft kiss. Quickly, it turns more passionate, now that we're alone in my living room. A light whimper escapes from my throat as I feel his warm tongue seek entry into my mouth, which I happily oblige. Soon, we're making out like teenagers, hands disappearing under clothing, caressing skin. We both know we can't let this go too far; there's a teenager upstairs, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other a little bit. Okay, a lot.

Things are getting a little more hot and heavy than I should really go along with seeing that my daughter is just up the stairs. I kiss him a bit more, pull him tightly to my body one last time in a tight, teasing, hug and give him one last kiss before pulling away from him. We really can't do this here, no matter how badly I desire him.

"Why don't you go up and take a shower?" I tell him, breaking the mood intentionally. We'll get our moment, this just isn't it. "There's an old blue shirt and a pair of pants you left here a few years ago up in my room, back of my closet on the shelf. I think it's just a pair of sweats and that blue shirt I used to tell you to wear all the time."

"Is that where that shirt got off to?" he asks me still holding a bit of eroticism in his tone. I bite my lip and he understands. It's really not the time. "I remember that's from that time I... stayed... the uh... night."

"Yeah," I answer him. "_That_ time."

He pulls me into another all too passionate kiss and retreats up the stairs to wash the stench of the courtroom off of his body. I can't help but enjoy watching him find his way up the stairs in my house like he belongs here. But, I have a feeling that's because he does belong here.

Not long after, I hear the shower turn on and it takes everything in me not to go upstairs and join him. Though we've slept together, we've never done that before. It's one of many things I'll look forward to if…no, I should say when, we take that next step. Him moving in would be a big deal. A really big deal, seeing that I have a kid in the house to look after. Even though I know Lindsey loves Warrick, that would be a huge step, having us all live together. Her father died years ago now, but I know she's still hurting from it. Who knows what having another man permanently in the house would do to her.

I'm lost in my thoughts until my cell phone rings on the coffee table. I pick it up and check the caller ID. It's Greg, which is weird, because he never calls me unless we're working a case together, and it's actually work hours. Nevertheless, I pick up the phone and answer. Immediately, he goes into a mini-rampage.

"Catherine, you have got to get over here or something," he tells me, and I can just hear the exhaustion in his voice before he even mentions it, "Grissom has turned into a fucking tyrant over here."

I run my hand through my hair, kind of thankful that I'm not there right now. Not often does Grissom turn into a so-called tyrant. Only when he's really really upset, which takes a lot, if you know Grissom. I can guess, of course, why he's upset. "What's going on?"

"He wants me to pull another triple, that's what's going on," he says. I hear the slamming of a locker door and I can tell he must be in the locker room. "Ever since Sara took off, we're short-handed, and he just expects us to drop everything and fill in for her. Hasn't he called you in?"

I furrow my eyebrows. Strangely, I haven't heard from Grissom about coming in, and I wonder if he's avoiding me. I hope Sara didn't mention that I gave her a little gentle nudge in terms of leaving for California. But really, I did them a favor, though he probably doesn't see it that way right now.

"Uh, no he hasn't. I'm not due in til tomorrow morning," I confess.

"You need to talk to him or something, Cath," Greg begs me. "It's like he's completely delusional since Sara took off."

"Okay Greg," I tell him feeling badly that neither Warrick nor I were called in when there was that much extra work to do around the lab. "Tell you what, I'll come down and clock in for a couple of hours and help out. When I get there you can go home and get some rest. And I'll talk to him for you."

"Thanks Cath," he says to me. "I really owe you one."

As I think about what I'm missing out on upstairs. Time with Warrick and with Lindsey I almost groan. "You have no idea."

"Eew Cath," Greg says to me and I can't help but laugh. "I didn't need that mental image."

"Pervert," I say as I hang up the phone. I quickly dial Grissom's number and after a few rings he answers. His voice is horse. "I'm going to come in and relieve Greg. He's had something personal come up. I'll be in in a half hour." I don't give my long time friend a chance to protest.

I grab a change of clothes quickly from my room without disturbing Lindsey or Warrick and then head back downstairs with my bag over my shoulder. I leave them a note saying that I had to go in to work but I'll be home in about three hours, after I deal with Grissom, and that they should just watch a movie or something until I'm back. I sign in with an especially demanding message that Warrick shouldn't leave just because I'm not home, and slip out the front door unnoticed. I can't help but wonder if I'll be sneaking out trying not to disturb my family a lot in the future. I sure hope so. It feels nice.

I'm wondering what kind of idiot leaves when someone like Warrick is upstairs in her house taking a shower. I must be nuts for doing this, but I could hear how weary Greg was on the phone. Though we're not especially close, I can't stand by and watch Grissom treat everyone so badly because he's upset. I gave Sara the nudge to leave, so I feel partly responsible for the mess Greg is in. Warrick will understand, because he's in the same boat I'm in work wise. Besides, I can make it up to him later, if he ends up staying the night.

Reluctantly, I hop into my car and pull out of the driveway, hoping Lindsey and Warrick aren't too terribly upset or annoyed with me. Sadly, Lindsey's kind of used to me having to head out at all hours of the day or night. I wish it wasn't that way, but that's what the job calls for.

Ten minutes later, I pull into the CSI parking lot and let out a long sigh. This is not where I want to be at all, but I have to talk to Grissom. Sure, it sucks for him right now, but surely he felt it. Surely, he realized that he and Sara weren't meant to be; that things weren't quite right between them. I can't blame him for being upset, though. He and Sara were into each other for years, and this must all come as a big shock, even if it had been coming for a while. It's hard to see clearly when your world's falling apart.

I try to make a beeline for Grissom's office, but I don't get even that far before I run into Greg, looking dirty and overworked in his coveralls. He looks relieved that I'm here, but overall he's just exhausted. "He's insane, Catherine," he says as we approach each other. "He even snapped at Judy the receptionist."

I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it supportively. I feel his pain, I really do. That's why I'm here to hopefully give him at least a small amount of recovery time. "I know, Greg. I'm gonna talk to him, alright? You go home and take a shower, get a couple hours' sleep in, and hopefully I can talk some sense into him."

Greg nods appreciatively and wraps one arm around me for a quick hug. "You're the best," he says before he darts away quickly; before Grissom sees him and makes him do something else. Sighing, I make my way again towards his office. I stop when I see that Nick's in there talking to him. The door's shut, so they must be having a private conversation of some kind. From the looks of it, Nick's trying to level with him, maybe trying to get him to open up, but from Grissom's body language I can tell it's not working. Great. Nick tells him one more thing, then turns to leave. As he leaves the office and shuts the door behind him, I reach out and touch his arm, and he almost jumps out of his skin.

"Nick. Sorry," I apologize as he relaxes and runs his hand over his hair the way he does when he's frustrated. Obviously, he's as aggravated as Greg is over the way Grissom's acting.

"Naw, it's okay. I'm just a little on edge," he tells me as he gently ushers me around the corner to talk in private. "Cath, between you and me. I don't know if he can handle Sara leaving. He's a total mess," he says.

It's hard to imagine Grissom as a mess. I know. But that's because he's never lost what he considered the love of his life. Never before has he felt this alone, this rejected, and it's a scary thing.

I hate this. Mostly because I can march into Grissom's office and tell him that he can't bully the boys around and though that'll help them I'm not going to fix his hurt. Part of me wants to fly to San Francisco and kick Sara's scrawny little butt, but that's not going to solve anything. Plus, I care for her as much as I care for him and I feel like she's going to be much happier with Alexander and her son than she could be with us.

I hate that I have no idea what's best in this situation. Well, I guess I do know what's best. It wouldn't be good for everyone if Sara continued on living here and living a lie. If she wasn't happy anymore it was time for her to move on. The only problem is that this way I have to watch my friend suffer. I really don't want to have to do that either.

But what do I say to him? How do I tell him that it's okay; his heart will un-break in time? Maybe it won't? My heart was never the same after Warrick got married. I don't think it even started to heal until a few months ago when he told me that he was divorcing her. So who am I to tell my best friend that his will be any more resilient?

"I do miss Sara," I tell Nick gently. I know that he does too. And Greg. Both of the guys have spent their fare share of time with a crush on Sara, though I'm not sure Nick ever admitted it. I know that in recent years Greg's attentions to her have waned, and though Nick's eyes seem to have been elsewhere I can't be certain. Looking into his eyes I could almost swear I see a broken heart.

"All of us do. But I think he's going to take this one really hard. He loves us all but Sara's always been special."

I see Nick's face agrees with me. _Sara is special_. "We just have to be there for him," I tell Nick. "And we can't let Sara forget that we're here for her too." I fully realize that I sound like a Hallmark card as I lean forward and give Nick a hug.

We embrace for a couple seconds, and as he pulls away, he gives me a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Yea, you're right. I just think I'm getting a little frustrated with Grissom right now because he's workin' us into the ground."

"Go take a break for a while," I reason with him. It's funny with guys; sometimes they can't do the obvious until someone else tells them to. He nods in agreement, we say goodbye, and he heads off to the break room for some much needed rest.

I have to take a deep breath before I step forward towards Grissom's office door. Not often do I find myself stumped for words for how to proceed with a conversation. Grissom never lets anyone in, so it's hard to know how to handle talking to him right now. I don't know if he wants me to be sympathetic, or tell him he's being unfair to his workers, or what. I'm not sure, but something needs to be done. I politely knock on his door and proceed inside before he can protest. His glasses are off, and he's rubbing his eyes either in frustration, exhaustion, or a combination of both.

"What are you doing here?" He asks me without even looking up.

"I heard you were giving everyone a hard time, so I'm here for a few hours to resolve some peace, hopefully," I say as I step forward and take a seat in one of the guest chairs. Several instances, people have assumed we're married, and it's times like these where it feels like it a little bit. I've always been the one to call him on his weird behavior, and sometimes it seems I'm the only one he'll listen to. I'm the only one who's allowed to reason with him.

"There's work to be done, and I'm shorthanded," he explained, popping his glasses back on as he sifts through a pile of files on his desk. "They're grown men. They can handle it."

"Well, I think they're all pretty frustrated, and it seems you're in no mood to cut any slack," I point out, scanning my eyes over his desk. I notice that a picture frame has been placed face-down, and realize it's a picture of him and Sara from their time in San Francisco. Despite the fact he's giving some of my best friends a hard time, I have to keep in mind this is a broken-hearted man. I know when I have a broken heart, I don't much feel like being pleasant and fair.

"I'm not in the mood to be lectured, Catherine," he tells me, with a slight edge in his voice. I fold my arms over my chest and just stare at him for a few long good minutes. Finally, he looks up at me and relaxes in his chair, as if he knows I'm cutting through all his bullshit, and he'll have to explain.

"I know you're upset about Sara," I tell him gently, "We all are. But Grissom, if she was unhappy here, I think it's best if she went away."

He looks up at me, exasperated. "What, did you two have a nice long conversation about this?" He raises his voice slightly. I guess Sara never did tell him that I'd talked to her about their relationship.

I bite my lip and prepare for a fight. He's not going to be pleased with me. "Sara and I spoke about the issue, yes." He gives me a glare that looks as though he's shooting daggers at me. "Gil, I've never lied to you before and I'm not going to start now."

"No, but you betrayed me," he says with rage in his voice. Well, not rage. It was something more like hurt. "Catherine how could you?"

"I did not betray you Gil," I can't believe that he feels that way, that I did. I would never do that and it hurts me profoundly that he feels as though I have. "Sara came to me confused. We sat down and talked with one another and I told her that she needed to do what was going to make her happy. You and I both know that she deserves that. Especially after... all she's been through."

"I don't deny that Catherine," he tells me. "But you could have told me she was unhappy. Let me in a little bit. I proposed! I'm such an idiot."

"I didn't know she was feeling this way until after you proposed," I can't believe I just used that excuse. I know that it doesn't make it any better. "She was going to break your heart either way. I just didn't want to see her break her own in the process."

I could swear that he was almost about to cry but he just clears his throat and looks at me. His pale gray eyes bare into me for several long moments before he takes a deep breath and speaks again. "I know. Just, well, when you lose the possibility of a fantasy coming true it sucks."

"You know about that?!" I say, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. "How?"

"Let's just say you're not the only one who talks about matters of the heart with the younger CSI's around here," Grissom teases me. He smiles for what I know must have been the first time since Sara left and stands to leave the room. "I'm going to go get a glass of water and call Greg to apologize. Now that I know it's you I should blame I really ought to let him off the hook."

As he walks out of the room I spend a split second being relieved that he's never been able to truly stay angry with me before I notice a letter sitting on the desk in front of the place he'd just vacated. I slowly start to read it, unable to turn my eyes from it even though I know I shouldn't be experiencing something that was meant to be so person between them. _Gil_, it began.

_  
When I told you that I have never loved anyone in my life the way I loved you I was speaking the complete truth straight from my heart. There has never been and will likely never be a man to come into my life and change it so profoundly as you have and I will always love you for that. It's just that I am so lost right now._

_My heart feels as though it has more than broken, it's as though it's vanished all together. I'd forgotten what it was like to love - to feel the beating in my chest until my son came into my world again. He is the only thing right now, the only person, who can break my numbness. _

I need him.

_I cannot bear to spend another day apart form him. He is my son Gil, and all of who I am. He makes my life worth living and brings joy to every day I spend. I cannot find the kind of life that I long for in a state so many hours away and I don't want to try a moment longer. _

A part of me will always love you. You were the first man I felt comfortable trusting and I have learned so much from you that I doubt you even knew you had the capability to teach. You are one of the greatest things to have ever come into my life but you are not the only great thing.

_I can not love you anymore. Not in the way that you and I both hoped for for so long. Lying in that hospital bed changed me and I will never be able to be the person I once was. Living with you, trying to love you, building a life on lies would be wrong. You and I were meant to be, but in the past. _

I do love you, but as the true friend and mentor that you've always been. Thank you for all you've given me and please let me learn the things that you can't teach me.

Formerly yours,

-Sara.

I can feel my own heart breaking in two as I read Sara's words, and I wasn't the one engaged to her. How heartwrenching it must have been to write, and to read. I feel a new level of pity for both of them, having put so much time and energy into their relationship, only to have it fall apart. And for Grissom, it seemed he had no idea it was even coming. I toss the letter back on his desk before he notices I've been reading it.

I should have known Grissom is a stealthy one. He walks back into the room, carrying a clipboard, sifting through its contents. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to snoop around in other people's stuff?"

"Sorry. Just curious," I clear my throat and brush back a piece of hair. "So, you want me to take Greg's case?"

"Yeah," he peers at me over his glasses. "Greg had a case down at the Palms. Dead porn star."

"Exciting," I comment. "I'll look over his notes and get started," I decide. As quickly as I can, I leave his office, glad to be away from the situation. I kind of feel like a child of divorcing parents…stuck in the middle. I love both Sara and Grissom, and I want them to be happy. It's so hard to watch them end. I wish I could just fix it; have Sara fall in love with Grissom, and really love him. But that's just wishful hoping. Sara wasn't happy, and while I'd like to fix it, I can't. It's their business. That's not my job. My job is to find out who murdered this porn star…

I wander through the hallway towards the evidence room, and pass the locker room on the way. I notice Nick in there, all alone, and he looks completely heartbroken. He always holds it together really well on the job. Thanks to his Texas upbringing, he's always strong on the outside and in public, but as I secretly watch him for a few moments, I can tell he's falling apart. Though I'm not terribly close to him, I don't think there's anything major going on in his personal life…other than Sara taking off. He and Sara had always been pretty close, so it's expected that he'd take this kind of hard. But this hard? He looks like he's about to unravel. Was there more going on than I thought?

"Nicky, you okay?" I say, walking closer into the room and approaching him. He doesn't respond to me, making me all the more concerned. I walk up to him and drop my hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Nick leans back a bit and looks up at me. He's sitting on a bench and I'm still standing beside him. "You okay?"

"Uh... yeah," he says to me. I'm totally not convinced. There's something really bugging him and I can't help but shake the feeling that it's Sara. Granted we all know that Nick has five sisters, a brother, and two parents he's very close with and the issue could be all of them, but the timing is too much to be a coincidence. He can tell I don't believe him because he says, "Cath really, there's nothing wrong."

"Nicky I know I'm not Sara," I tell him as I take a seat across from him on the opposite bench. "And that you've always talked to her and I've always had Warrick but you've obviously got something on your mind."

"It's just the way Sara left," he says to me as he runs a hand over his head. "I mean I'm sure she said goodbye to Grissom but what about the rest of us? Did she forget about us? What about Greg and Warrick and me?"

The way he said the last word, 'me,' really stings as I can tell there's a lot of conflict and confusion mixed in with it. I can tell he feels the sting too but I don't think he knows why, "she didn't leave you Nick," I tell him. "She left Grissom. You can still call her and she'll still call you, and we both know she misses us all."

"You wouldn't know it by the way she just left," he's bitter and hurt. I know that Nick used to have a crush on Sara years ago but I thought that waned a while back. Have his feelings for her resurfaced? "Sorry Cath, I'm just a little frustrated."

I reach over and pat his knee in support. "We all are, Nicky," I admit, though of course I saw this coming. I knew this was coming, and it still hurts to see it all unfold. Sara, up until last night, had been outwardly acting as if everything was okay. Everyone thought she and Grissom were a sealed deal; that they were getting married and were in love. It's just a shock that she up and left with no warning. Perhaps Sara was so caught up in herself, she didn't think about how not saying goodbye would upset the rest of the team. I wonder if she has any clue as to how Nick feels. "I'm not sure what she's gonna do. If she'll stay there just for a while, or move back permanently. But, I just want her to be happy, you know?"

Nick took in a deep breath and nodded in agreement, but the pained look on his face said 'if it were only that easy'. Sure, we want everyone in our lives to be happy, but it's never that simple. Sometimes someone else being happy means the rest of us are miserable.

"I know," his voice is soft and defeated. "It just…sucks, ya know?"

"Yeah. It does," I agree. "But, I bet she'd be happy to hear from you in a couple days, after she's settled in. I know she'll miss everyone."

"Mmmm…yea maybe," he says. Nick doesn't look too convinced, but there's not much else I can do, really. It just sucks, and we all just have to pick up the pieces and get on with our lives.

"I need to get to work," I excuse myself, giving his shoulder another supportive squeeze as I get up. "But call me if you need anything okay? Or call Warrick. Just call someone."

He nods, and we say our goodbyes. The time passes fast enough over the next few hours, as I keep myself busy with the porn star case. When I'm at work, I'm focused on the task at hand, and I somehow don't once think about Warrick and Lindsey back at home. But as soon as I clock out, I feel the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter at the thought of Warrick waiting for me at home. Warrick. In my house…possibly in my bedroom. I want to ask him to stay the night, but something in the back of my mind still makes me nervous he'll say no. He's divorced; he doesn't have a girlfriend. There's not really a reason for him to say no, other than the fact we're coworkers. I think we've moved past that stage, where we're worried about our jobs. We pretty much don't care what Grissom or anyone else thinks. Still, we're not official.

My hands and feet quickly lead my car back home. As I pull into the driveway, I'm glad to see that the lights are still on in the living room, and Warrick's car is still parked on the street. I gather up my purse and workbag, and quickly shuffle inside. My ears are met with the sound of Warrick and Lindsey giggling at the movie they're watching on the couch. I look at my watch, and see it's past midnight. I hate to break up their party, but Lindsey has school tomorrow. The mother in me has to take over.

"Lindsey Willows," I say as I walk in the living room. She stops laughing and looks over at me. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, but Warrrick said I could stay up," she says to me as she looks up at him with a grin. "As a matter of a fact he made me stay up. He said he'd be lonely if I went to bed and you weren't home yet."

"Did he?" I ask her as I turn to him and give him a glare. I lean forward and drop a kiss on my daughter's forehead. "I'll deal with him. You have school in the morning so I'm letting you off the hook for keeping him company."

"Yeah okay Mom," she says rolling her eyes at me but to my surprise she gets up and pulls me into a hug quickly before heading towards the stairs. "Night mom. Night Warrick!"

"Night kid," Warrick says to her as he too stands up and comes forward to wrap me up in a hug, though it's totally different than the one Lindsey gave me. I feel him lean in to me and then I feel him pull my body close to him squeezing me a bit harder than I'm used to. He runs his hand up the middle of my back and into my hair before dropping a kiss on my temple. "How was work?" he asks in a whisper right next to my ear.

"I... uh..." I mumble but I honestly can't remember how work was. As a matter of a fact I have no knowledge of anything at all at the moment. All I am aware of is his touch on my body and the electric thrill it's sending through me. I can't help but feel ready for the thunder or a downpour of a rainstorm because what's coursing through my veins right now is nothing short of lightning.

"Hmmm?" He asks again, teasing me a bit, because surely he knows the effect he's having on me. His hand sweeps my hair away from my shoulder and he drops a kiss behind my ear, then on my neck, and then on my shoulder. There's goosebumps forming on my arm, and I know it's not because of the air conditioning. A low chuckle escapes from my throat as his hands move down my lower back and come to rest on my bottom.

He raises his head and I see the gleam in his eyes before he closes them and our lips meet in a passionate kiss. His lips taste so good – so Warrick. I start drowning in him as we shower each other in hot kisses and caresses. Soon, I feel his hand snake up underneath my shirt and I can see where this is heading.

"Let's go upstairs," I manage to break my lips away from his long enough to whisper the words to him. He nods and I turn off the downstairs light as I hold his hand with the other. Quietly, we walk up the stairs to my bedroom. Luckily, it sounds like Lindsey has her television on to help put her to sleep. It's not that I haven't had men stay overnight before, but somehow this is more personal. Having a man spend the night is not something I take lightly, because I know it's likely Lindsey will know about it the next morning. I want to set a good example for my daughter, and I think she knows I'm very careful who I introduce into her life. With Warrick, I know it's something special.

As soon as we get into my bedroom and close the door, it's like we've never set hands on each other before. We're anxious to touch each other's skin, to kiss, and to explore each other's bodies. Each item of clothing is shed, each drop of fabric leading us closer to where we want to be. Before we know it, we're on my bed, kissing heavily, in just our undergarments. I want this to happen, but before it does, I need to ask Warrick something.

Gently, but firmly, I put my hand on his chest to push him back a little. "What's wrong?" He looks worried, his green eyes gazing questioningly into mine.

"Nothing," I offer him a small smile. "I just…are we…what are we?"

Warrick takes the hand that's on his chest in his, and links our fingers together as he gazes into my eyes. "I don't know. I do know how I feel about you."

"And what's that?" I whisper, our voices low.

"I'm crazy about you," he admits, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I love it when he does that; so tender and caring. I know he'll treat me right, no matter what.

He drops a kiss gently on my lips and then looks into my eyes more gently than I think any other man ever has, "Catherine I mean it. I'm absolutely wild about you."

"Warrick..." I say to him but as I search his face for a sign of what he wants to hear I can't find it. I'm slowly starting to realize that with him there is no wrong thing for me to say and so, there really isn't a right thing either. If I dare admit it, I think he'll love me no matter what comes out of my mouth. I can't fathom another relationship as honest as this one, even if we never become anything more than we are right now.

"Catherine I..." he pauses and I can't quite understand what I'm seeing on his face. He kisses my cheek and then my lips. "I want this to be absolutely everything it can be. I'll be everything to you that you'll let me and for as long as you will. I..."

I can see in his face that he paused because he's frightened to say the words on his lips. I rest my hand on the side of his cheek and look into his eyes, "say it."

"I love you," he says and then looks away as if he's afraid of what my reaction might be. Maybe because it might change everything. I can't help it. I feel the tears overcome me before I know what's happening. "Catherine..."

"Oh Warrick," I sniffle back a couple of tears. "I love you too. Be with me. Be mine."

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_Please review._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sorry we've taken so long to update. You know how we tend to be with this story. But, here's another chapter. We've actually sat down and discussed an outline and we're not far from the end. We've got the next few events of the story planned out and have it decided whose perspective they're all going to be in so you guys can expect the story to come to a close in the foreseeable future. We're also really excited about the next chapter of Cheaper By The Half Dozen so be looking for that.

Chapter Warning: There are some mild spoilers for the Seventh Harry Potter book. I imagine everyone in the world has read it but if you haven't please don't bite our heads off if you're spoiled.

Anyway, we're really sorry about being slow to update. We promise we haven't quit with this story and we won't stop writing it without giving you guys fair warning that the end is coming. Enjoy it.

-LLK and Bauerfreak.

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_Symphony of Change_

_Chapter 10_

_--_

I roll over in my bed, letting a yawn escape as I look over at the alarm clock. It's a little after nine A.M., a time that during my previous life in Vegas, I would be just crawling into bed or perhaps dredging on for a second shift. But now that I'm in California living with Alexander and Ryan, my body clock has completely changed. I sleep at night, and I'm active during the day, but not too early. I've never really been one to sleep in and waste the day, but lately I've been indulging in rising mid-morning instead of the crack of dawn. Sometimes, I even take a little nap in the afternoon. In other words, life is good.

It's been almost two months now since I left Las Vegas and Grissom. With past breakups, it's usually been me getting dumped, and mainly because of my extreme dedication to work and lack of commitment. I've always been the heartbroken one; the person who never saw it coming. This time, things are different. I feel…free, for lack of better terms. I feel like a weight has been lifted off me and I can finally breathe again and make my own decisions. I don't have to base my life, my affection, my time around someone else and receive next to nothing back. I'm happy here with Alexander and Ryan. Happier than I have been in quite a while.

Letting out a contented sigh, I sit up in bed and stretch my arms over my head, noticing a little fluffy orange cat snoozing at my feet. He senses that I'm waking up, so he turns his still tiny head and his eyes seem to smile at me. Caesar is the perfect companion cat. He goes to sleep when I do, and gets up when I do, not a moment before. His slightly bigger, but still tiny frame stretches and he happily scampers over to me to receive some good-morning love.

"Hi Caesar!" I chirp softly to him as I reach out to tickle his head, and then run my hand along his back a few times. "Wanna go get some breakfast?"

Another red head perks up from the foot of my bed when I start shifting to get up with Caesar—it's the guys' year and a half old golden retriever, Jack. She's usually Ryan's shadow but he'll be at school by now so I've got the pleasure of spending the day with her. I've never met a more even tempered dog before... not even Hank has the personality that this dog does. She's highly energetic and incredibly gentle. I've got videos on my cell phone of her rolling around on the floor with Caesar.

I rub a couple fingers through Jack's hair and wrap a gentle arm around Caesar before shifting to the edge of the bed, "you too Jack. Let's go make some breakfast."

I don't eat meat and haven't for years so it's not as fun for Caesar and Jack to come into the kitchen and watch me make breakfast as it is when Alexander does. He always cooks up an extra slice of bacon for each of them. No such luck with me. I do try to make up for it though... today I go straight to the refrigerator and pour a small portion of milk into a bowl for Caesar, dropping him onto the floor to enjoy it. Jack gives me puppy dog eyes wondering what I'm going to find for her this morning. After a couple moments of thinking about it myself I notice a take out box in the fridge. I hope that Ryan didn't plan on eating his leftover ravioli from the other night as I start warming it in the microwave. Jack dances happily waiting for the beep.

"What should I make for myself this morning guys?" I ask them half expecting one or the other to tell me what I'm in the mood for. "Do I want a bagel? A muffin? Fruit salad?"

When I suggest the fruit salad Jack whimpers a bit. I know it's because there are only three seconds left on the microwave and she's getting impatient but I decide to trust her judgment anyway. I resolve to go with a toasted bagel with cream cheese and a small bowl of fruit as the microwave beeps.

I settle the ravioli in Jack's dish before popping my bagel into the toaster and pouring myself a glass of skim milk. The whole is there for Ryan really but I share it with Caesar when nobody's looking, not that they'd mind really. I move my breakfast over to the kitchen table when it's all finished and start chewing slowly. We have an incredible view out from the nook in the kitchen. It looks over more than half of the city. "Caesar come up here and look at this," I tell the pint sized orange fluff ball with the milk mustache that I can hear purring from across the room. He doesn't respond. I've been sold out for a half of a bowl of whole milk.

I just shake my head and smirk, then take another bite from my bagel. Even though we can see a big chunk of the city from the breakfast nook, it's incredibly peaceful in Alexander's home. Apartment living can be quite noisy, as I've found out over the years, so living like this is truly a treat. I don't get woken up by noisy neighbors or cars. It's just me, Caesar, Jack, and that wonderful, peaceful silence.

A few minutes later, Jack has finished off her ravioli and she trots over to me, licking the sauce from her mouth. She comes up to me and lays her head on my lap so I can stroke her head. I've always liked dogs, but haven't owned one since I was a kid. Even Hank was more Grissom's than mine. I know I lucked out with Jack. She's the sweetest, most well-behaved dog I've ever encountered. I'm not sure how permanent this living arrangement will be, but I'll sure enjoy Jack while I'm here.

After some quality time with Jack, I decide to laze around a little more before I shower and get on my email. I still stay in touch with my work family in Vegas, mostly through email and my blog. Almost every day, I write about what I've been getting up to, my feelings, and a variety of other things. Sometimes my writing isn't all that exciting to read - at least I don't think it is – but most of my coworkers comment or respond at least once a week.

I log into my blog account and navigate to yesterday's post. I went on a five mile hike with Jack in the California wilderness and did a lot of reflecting about my life, and about its direction. I wrote for a good half hour about my thoughts, everything from cases I'd worked on, to friendships, to parts of my childhood, and my move back to California. I've received two responses. One from Greg, who recalled the case I'd written about and had some memories of his own to share, and of course one from Nick. Greg usually responded to a blog post about once a week as well as Warrick, Catherine usually did several times a week, Grissom never had, and Nick responded to every single one without fail. It was sweet, really, how Nick always found something positive or insightful to comment on. If I'd had a bad day, sometimes he'd respond with some sort of joke or positive spin to cheer me up. Often, I found myself laughing or at the very least smiling at his responses.

I'm about to start typing a couple responses to the comments I've gotten when I hear my phone start to vibrate. It's Greg calling. I smile and shift away from the computer chair to the couch in the office, prepared for a fairly lengthy chat. He's called me once a week since I've been back in California. The easy friendship I've always had with him is pleasant compared to the one I shared with Grissom. "Hey Greggo," I answer happily.

"Hey Sara," he says to me, also happily. "I'm surprised you answered. I never get you at this hour... you're always off doing something."

"I know it's this damn sleeping schedule," I joke. "Ryan keeps joking that the vampires are going to kick me out of their nocturnal creatures club."

"Hasn't he read Twilight?" Greg jokes back to me. "All the cool vampires aren't nocturnal anymore. They don't burn in the sun, they sparkle."

"He just doesn't know the ways of the world yet. So innocent," I'm at a full burst of laughter before I try to quiet myself down. "So, what's new?"

"Not much," he says to me sounding a little bored. "I've got that lunch thing in a bit."

"The weekly stop by that bistro?" I ask, wondering if he's made any progress. "Has she noticed you then?"

"Funny," he informs me. "I'll have you know she usually works on Tuesdays. It's Thursday, I'm actually just meeting her there for a meal."

"A date you mean?" I ask excitedly. "How long has this been going on?"

"This is the third week," he tells me excitedly. "Her name is Elizabeth. She's a teacher. She's got a little girl. Divorced two years ago."

"She sounds great," I tell him but follow it with a sigh. I can't remember the last time I was this excited about a lunch date with someone. "What's up with everyone else?"

"Warrick and Catherine still think they're pulling one over on us," he informs me. "They get here every evening at the same time in the same car. They request the same days off. She's glowing all the time. He's had a smile on his face for the last two months." He laughs. "There's no hiding it. Nick's been a little weird and sorta on edge lately but that's not new. I told you he's been like this for a while. And Grissom, well he's okay. He seems happier lately."

"Good," I say. Glad that he's doing better. I don't have anything against my former fiancé... I just wasn't ready to marry the man. I was never as in love with him as I thought. "I'm really glad that everyone's doing okay. But... what's up with Nick?"

"He's just going through a tough time," he tells me skirting my question. "I bet he'd like to hear from you."

"We speak almost every day," I answer feeling like I'm still missing something.

"It's not the same over the Internet," he tells me. He drops his voice a few decibels. "I bet a phone call from you would cheer him up."

I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it, scrunching my face up in confusion. Exactly why did Greg have to drop his voice down low to tell me I should call Nick? Was it in some way inappropriate to suggest such a thing? I can tell now that I'm really missing something, and that somehow everyone else knows but me.

"Umm...okay..." I tell him, twisting myself around in the swivel chair. "I really should. I haven't talked to him in a while. Our body clocks are just way off I guess."

"Well, you find time to talk to me," he points out, with a bit of a childish hint of mischief in his voice. I chuckle at his comment. It's true I find time to talk to him over the phone, but he's usually the one that calls me. I've never been much of a conversationalist over the phone, not one to call up friends just for a chat. That might make me a bad friend in some ways, but email saves me. Still, I realize that the personal nature of a phone call is preferred by a lot of people rather than email. I need to make more of an effort to make phone calls, and apparently much more of an effort with Nick.

"Okay, I get it," I smile as I laugh into the phone some more. "I'll call him later today," I promise him. Greg and I continue to talk a few minutes longer before we hang up. He's always had a great way of cheering me up, and I truly miss seeing him every day. As I set the phone down on the desk, I smile to myself and feel ready to start my day.

First thing up is a shower, I tell myself. Nick is probably sleeping now, unless Grissom's having him work a double, in which case he wouldn't be able to talk anyway. Not that I'm avoiding talking to Nick, but if he's down in the dumps, I want to be able to devote enough time to talk to him. From experience, I know how exhausting a shift at work can be, and the first thing I always wanted to do was hit the sack and sleep for several hours. His blog posts are always in the late afternoon, so I decide I'll try to call Nick around that time.

I take my shower, and enjoy not having to rush as I did when working as a CSI. Living here, time is my friend now, not my enemy. I never realized how much I like this laid-back lifestyle. I feel so relieved and relaxed, and though I miss my friends in Vegas, I don't find myself missing that lifestyle.

As I let the hot water wake me up further, I notice a little orange ball through the clear shower curtain. Caesar's little paw is batting at the falling water drops as they run down the curtain. His favorite place to be while I'm in the shower is between the clear inner curtain and the dark blue outer curtain. Alexander jokes that he's a little voyeur, but I think he just likes to be close to me.

Voyeur or 'mama's boy' aside he bats at another water droplet and tumbles into the shower. He darts to the other end of the tub and looks up at me with a deeply hurt expression. I can't help but laugh at the poor guy as I tug the curtain back and let him escape. I finish my shower quickly so I can go find Caesar and console him. I finally find him in Alexander's room curled up in the chair that he sometimes reads in by the far window.

I pick Caesar up and can't help but look around the room a bit. I don't sleep in here. I did the first night back in town but that was because we'd been up for the better part of the night. We don't sleep together and haven't in years. We decided that having the clear boundaries, such as two different bedrooms, for Ryan's sake was the best policy. There's a picture on the small bookshelf in the corner that takes me by surprise. Actually, there are two photographs that strike me.

The first is one of a woman that I've only seen once or twice before. She has long dark hair that falls over her shoulders in this one. Vibrant green eyes that remind me of Warrick's are glowing towards the person behind the camera—I can only assume it's Alexander. I remember her name was Lori. They dated for about three years and ended it just before the start of this past summer. I feel a pang of guilt. I wish I'd been here for Alexander when that was happening... but I was indisposed.

The other image is one of him and me with Ryan from years ago. Ryan was only about three and we'd gone to my mother's for the first time since he'd been born. Mom was oddly welcoming and happy to meet my family. She took this picture... it's always been one of my favorites of the three of us. There's another image on the shelf above those two. It's one of Ryan and Jack when she was still just a puppy. I'd forgotten how much of a sentimental Alexander can be.

Caesar's starting to act a little frustrated with me as I wander around Alexander's room looking at things so I drop him to the floor and follow him to the living room. Now just to decide what I want to do with the rest of my day. I usually go for a run with Jack about this time but it's a little weird to run right after a shower. Jack does still need a walk though so I guess I'll take her for a quick trip around the block and then hopefully come up with something to do with the rest of my day.

Jack is always enthralled at the idea of taking a walk, so I easily get her in her leash and head out the door. Secretly, I think Caesar revels in having the entire house to himself. Such a big place for such a tiny cat. I imagine he thinks he's king of the castle while we're all gone.

The movement and the silence of a walk always does wonders for my state of mind. Not that I was at all upset before my walk, but it helps clear my head even more. Walking with Jack is calming, and I find myself beginning to think about what I should say to Nick later on when I call him.

I'm still puzzled by the way Greg spoke about him on the phone. Everyone knew that if Nick was having a hard time, he kept to himself about it. Sometimes he opened up to Warrick about things, and at times he's confided in me, but I always felt like he carried around more than he shared. When he went through the horrifying experience of being buried alive a few years back, he rarely spoke about it to us afterwards. I know he's from the south, and southern men are expected to keep their composure and be strong, but I've always told Nick he needs to let things out. It's not healthy for him to keep things bottled up if something's bothering him.

I don't want to pry when I call him, but at the same time, I want him to vent if he needs to. Not that it's my business, but I want to know what's bothering him, not so I can gossip about it but so I might possibly help him out. At the same time, though, if he's having a good day, I don't want to bring him down by mentioning people have noticed something's up.

I get so caught up in my thoughts about calling Nick I don't realize I've taken Jack the long way. Usually, I circle around just one block, but I've inadvertently doubled the route. I know Jack won't mind at all - she loves going on long walks - but I'll surely be working up a slight glean.

After about twenty minutes, and some more thinking about what I'll say to Nick, we finally arrive home. I unleash Jack and collapse onto the couch, glad to be off my feet.

Jack vanishes into the house someplace but I don't have a clue where to. Probably Ryan's and then Alexander's room to see if either of them is home yet. I wish that I could tell her that it's only quarter of noon and that neither of them is going to be home for a while. Unfortunately the dog's sense of time is completely wacky and she's always expecting them back from the moment they leave every morning.

Caesar waltzes into the room and steps on the coffee table next to me as he's on route to settle on my chest. For a brief moment I see him perched on the Harry Potter book that Nick got me. I remember that I haven't started reading it and reach forward to pick it up. Caesar bats at my hand and I can't help but chuckle. He reminds me a bit of the spunky, slightly evil, Crookshanks.

I bat back at him playfully before scooping him up and depositing him on my chest. I fumble the book around a bit before I find a comfortable position and then crack it open. _Sara, your friend Nick tells me you're not feeling well. I hope you're better soon. Enjoy the book. -JKR._ I can't help but grin from ear to ear when it falls to the page with the signature. Nick said that he'd pulled a favor from his sister Beth but I know it must have taken a considerable amount of effort for him to get this.

When I think about it Nick's gifts have always been the most thoughtful. He's the one that's always surprised me over the years with the most shocking and wonderful gifts. I still have the three tickets to see Wicked live that he bought me when I first woke up at the hospital. I reach for my phone and start a text to Alexander. I want to ask him when we can all go see the show. But a moment later I feel a little guilty—I want Nick to be there.

For the first time I wonder if Nick bought those tickets with the secret hope that he'd get to see it with me. A moment later, I dismiss the idea - he bought three tickets, not two. Obviously, he meant for me to go with Alexander and Ryan. Still, I feel like it's something I should be doing with Nick. He went out of his way to get the tickets, after all, so he should get to enjoy the show. I sigh to myself, not sure what to do.

I let the pads of my fingers wander over the lettering of JK Rowling's message. Guys don't call up their sisters for favors from JK Rowling for just anyone. I smile to myself, thinking of our friendship over the years. From the start, we'd had a friendly banter that only blossomed through the years. Nick was the only coworker I felt comfortable joking around much with at the beginning. We seemed to be on the same wavelength a lot, and while our work often took on a gruesome nature, we were always able to be light and positive together. Not that we both didn't have our moments when we wanted to ball up in the fetal position and cry over the sick nature of certain human beings (well, at least I did, anyway), but he always kept me in check with the lighter side of life. He is truly a great friend, and I really miss him.

My heart feels a strong pang of guilt, missing Nick, and remembering what Greg told me. Nick has been having a hard time for some reason, and I'm not there to see him through it like I have so many times. I wonder what he's thinking, and what he's feeling. I haven't spoken to him on the phone in a while, though he responds to my blog all the time. Just reading his written words doesn't let me read his tone and emotion of his voice. I feel so guilty not being there for him, and even guiltier for not calling him earlier when I had the chance.

I turn to the first page of the novel, and try to focus on the words in front of me. It's not happening. Without giving myself another moment to think, I pick up my cell phone and dial Nick's number.

"Mmmhmm."

"Nicky?" I ask stupidly. Of course it's Nick. "Oh... I woke you up. I'm sorry."

He clears his throat, "Uh... no.. no I—I was awake."

"You're lying," I accuse playfully. "Nick, I'll call back later. Go back to sleep."

"Wait," he says quietly. "Sara?"

"It's me," I say. "I'm really sorry I woke you up."

"No, no," he's wide awake now. "I'm glad you called."

"I could call again la--" I'm cut off.

"No, I'm glad you called." He sounds genuinely happy to hear from me. "Uh... what's up?"

"Just calling to check in," I say. "I was reading over the comments on my blog and I thought I'd give you a call. We haven't really spoken in a long time."

"Not really," he says still sounding a bit fatigued. "Not since you left..."

The conversation goes silent for a moment, now that Nick's stopped denying he was asleep. I hear a faint sound over the phone, one I identify as Nick clearing his throat and trying to hide it. Though of course I've never walked in on Nick in bed, I can practically picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, his hair disheveled with a bleak, sleepy look on his face.

"So, uh..." I turn around in my place and run my fingers through my hair nervously. I can't believe I called him without thinking about what to say first. I woke him up, and I can't even start a conversation. "How have things been...with...you?"

Lame.

"Uh...alright I guess," he tells me. "Same old stuff. Hodges has really been ticking me off lately, but that's not news."

I laugh a little at his comment. It's not hard to see how much Nick dislikes Hodges at all. "No, not at all. How's he been doing in the field?"

"Alright, I guess. He still has no tact, and I'm not sure if he ever will." I hear him sigh a little into phone, the way he always does when there's not much he can do about a situation. "How's life in Cali?"

"Great. Really good," I say, nodding, as if he can see me. "Surprisingly, I'm enjoying a more laid back kind of life. I get to sleep in and take our dog Jack on walks. And Caesar's fitting in really well. He thinks he's the king of the house."

Nick chuckles this time, and I realize I kind of miss the way his laugh lines light up his face. Still, the sound of his laugh is comforting. "I can imagine," he comments.

I let the conversation turn a little more serious, like I know I can with Nick. "So, Greg tells me you've been a little down lately. You really doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I hear him add a breathy "now," though I'm not sure he meant for me to hear it.

"Really? Because he sounded a little concerned," I'm trying to pick my words carefully. There's a pause for a few moments where neither of us are talking—when I finally break the silence I'm barely whispering, "I really hate that I'm not there."

"Really?!" He asks. It's almost an accusation rather than a question. "Because it seems like... never mind."

"Nick what's going on?" I hadn't ever expected a conversation between us to get so awkward. Granted I knew it wasn't going to be as easygoing as it started out once I brought up that I was concerned about him. "Really?"

"I don't know Sara," he tells me honestly. "I guess it's just that everyone else's lives are changin' and mine's just...not."

"How so?" The question sounds idiotic but I'm really not sure what he means.

"I guess just... you and Warrick and Catherine and Greg and Grissom... you've all got stuff goin' on in your lives right now." He pauses, "the biggest thing I got goin' is that you left."

"It's good to know you miss me," I'm feeling a little insignificant. It's not like I expected everyone to get all freaked out and cry about me going... but I'd thought Nick would miss me.

"C'mon Sara," the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I've never heard his voice so electrifying—so gentle. "Of course I miss you."

I can't help but smile. It's both good and bad that Nick misses me. Bad because I hate that I'm causing him sorrow, but good to know someone is actually missing me. I've been missing Nick quite a bit myself - more than I've been missing my other coworkers - and it's kind of nice to know he feels the same.

"I, uh," I stammer, "I miss you too Nick."

The phone is silent on both ends for several prolonged moments. "Yeah," he says, in a tone that implies this just isn't enough. "So, are you gonna come visit soon?"

Truthfully, I haven't even thought about visiting yet. It doesn't feel like I've been gone long enough to even think about going back. "That's probably not a good idea just yet. I'm still adjusting."

"I thought as much," he sounds a little more upset than I was expecting. "So you're not coming back then?"

"Well I didn't say never Nick," I'm trying to pick my words carefully again. "But I can't... yet."

"You think you'll ever be ready?" He sounds hopeful. "Or is Vegas always gonna be weird for you?"

"I'll come back," I do miss him—I make up my mind. I will go back someday if for no other reason than to see Nick. "I will."

"Good," he says gently, in a much softer voice than he's been using up until this point. It strikes me how much I enjoy hearing this tone of voice from him. Most of the time, he has to use a very professional tone while we're at work. When we hang out as friends, I get to hear his lighthearted, friendly tone of voice. However, I rarely get to hear him this gentle, this...caring.

"Well, I better let you go," I tell him, sitting back down on the couch. "You need to get some sleep. And I need to do some cleaning."

Nick lets out a low chuckle at my excuse. "Cleaning? What are you now, a domestic goddess?" He teases me, and I can practically see his laugh lines appearing around his mouth and eyes. "What have they done to you?"

"Ha ha," I deadpan, smiling at his teasing of me. With Nick, I know not to be offended. He's never really seen the motherly side of me; the part of me that likes to pack lunches for my son in the morning, do his laundry (okay, I don't so much enjoy this, but I hardly ever got to do it up until this point, so it's a novel and exciting thing for me), and yes - keep a clean home. Sara Sidle does have a domestic side, it's just not something I've gotten to use much in Vegas, as evidenced by Nick's reaction. "You just wait, Nick. One day when you have a wife and kids, you'll be washing everyone's underwear and cleaning up after breakfast."

"Hey, my Texan mother taught me very well, thank you," he banters back. "I know how to do all that."

"Well, then some lady will be very lucky," I tell him. "She'll marry right into a Mr. Mom."

"How am I still single?" He says lightheartedly, a stark difference from his attitude at the beginning of the conversation about his single status. We both laugh a little more, and I really wish we could talk a little longer, but I know this is his nighttime. He needs his sleep.

"Alright, you better get some more sleep. Call me soon?"

"I will," he promises me. "Bye Sara."

I have a flashback to an episode of Frasier I saw a few days ago. Niles is going into surgery and he keeps saying Daphne's name over and over again. When she asks him why he keeps saying it he tells her it's because he wants to say it as many times as he possibly can before... he loses the chance. Obviously this isn't the situation with Nick; we're merely hanging up the phone because I rudely called when he was in the middle of sleeping. But, I still can't help but think of that moment.

"Bye Nick," I say-- no that was more of a whisper. "Good night, Nick."

Once I've finally clicked the phone off I fumble through my book again trying to find my place. My mind isn't set on reading though and by the time I do find where I'd left off I'm totally unfocused. After reading the same paragraph several times (the part where Hedwig dies) I decide that I might as well find something else to do with my time. I drop the book on the couch instead of finding its place on the bookshelf, something I never would have done when I was still living in Vegas, and make my way into the kitchen for some cleaning supplies.

It's not that our house is dirty or it never gets dirty. It's just that with the five of us under the one roof things tend to get a bit disorderly if someone doesn't keep up with it and since I'm here so much I've taken to doing the minor chores myself. I put in a load of laundry, vacuum the living room and den, sweep all the hardwood floors, and Windex all of the windows and mirrors in the house. The whole project takes me a bit more than an hour. Once I'm done folding the laundry I'm out of ideas for what to do with the rest of my afternoon. I could either start dinner and make something involved and delicious or tackle one of the bigger projects that none of us have gotten to yet; like winter-proofing the rose bushes.

Call me lazy, but I don't feel like winter-proofing the bushes at all, so I opt for the former. Part of my new domestic Sara lifestyle, I do enjoy cooking for my family. Anyone who knows me well might see this as shocking or odd, but I don't think it is. What's more important than feeding the ones you love?

I am vegetarian, and Ryan and Alexander are not, so cooking can be a bit tricky. I decide to cook spaghetti and meatballs, so it's easy to just make vegetarian balls for myself. The meatballs take a while to simmer, so I decide to start with that and then cook the spaghetti later.

As soon as I get my hands covered in ground beef and onion, the front door swings open and in walks Ryan, home from his day at school. Already, I know exactly what he'll do - drop his backpack by the front door, nudge off his tennis shoes, and come straight to the kitchen for a snack.

"Hey, Ryan," I call to him as I hear his shoes dropping to the floor. I quickly go to the sink to wash my hands so I can give him a big hug.

"Oh hey, Mom," he says as he walks into the room. I'm definitely biased, but he looks so cute in his carpenter jeans, and a t-shirt of some band I've never heard of. His hair is getting a little long.

Before he gets a snack, he stops and gives me a good hug - not one of those quick squeezes most teenage boys usually give to their mothers - but a nice, long full-on hug. I savor every moment he's in my arms because I've gone without it for so long. A few moments later, he pulls away and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

"How was your day?" I ask him.

"It was okay," he tells me. He wanders over to the pantry cabinet and reaches in for a chocolate bar. "We got our essays back today. I've got a little revision to do."

"Put that back. You can have an apple or a couple carrots if you're hungry. I'm making dinner." He knows that I'm a bit of a health freak when it comes to snacking. "You want me to help you with your essay?"

"Nah, I got it," he tells me. "She just said I need to cut some of it out. Apparently I'm a little long winded."

"That's not always a bad thing," I tell my son. "I know a few tricks for making sure you don't go overboard though. I could read it for you and mark a few key phrases and words if you want."

"Yeah, okay," he tells me. "But let me edit it first. I wanna see how good I do without the extra help."

"Sounds like a plan," I tell him. "When is it due?"

"Oh, next Tuesday," he shrugs his shoulders. "Some kids have a lot more revisions to do than me. You'd think you'd have to know grammar to get into a private school."

I can't help but laugh at my son as he pulls up a chair at the bar and starts cutting his apple. One thing that Ryan hates more than anything is when people abuse the English language. He's been known to correct me for using contractions the wrong way in conversations or putting too many commas in the letters I used to send him. Once he got to that lesson in school he's been a bit of a Nazi about writing. Alexander says that he blames me. If I wasn't such a perfectionist then our son wouldn't have turned out that way.

"Well we can't all be as smart as you are, kid." It was the truth. I've always thought that I was smarter than the average person but when I met my son, even just days after he was born, I knew that I'd been wrong. Ryan has always been the smartest person I know.

"Don't I know it," he says, and pops a piece of apple into his mouth. He lets it crunch in his mouth and then he grins at me. I wink at him and start chopping up an onion to put in the meatballs.

"How's your social studies project coming?" I ask as I make the first slice into the onion.

He finishes chewing before he answers, "It's not. I haven't started yet."

I give him a bit of a look and he just smiles back at me, unworried. Ryan can be so uptight about certain things, like the English language, but very laid back about others. He can be a procrastinator, just like the rest of us, but he always gets his work done on time. And he almost always gets A's. Of course I'd prefer if he got a head start on the project that's worth almost a quarter of his grade due in a month, but he'd rather just put it on the back burner until crunch time. That's the way he works, and while it's nerve-wrecking for me, it's how he gets things done. He works well under pressure, just like me.

"So, if you leave it to the last week, like I assume you're planning on doing," I continue chopping, feeling the onion fumes starting to sting my eyes, "What if one of your other teachers springs a test on you that week? Then what will you do?"

I'm trying not to sound like a nagging mother, but I'm afraid I'm starting to sound like one. I'm keeping my tone light, though, so he knows I'm just making a suggestion.

He crunches another piece of apple in his mouth and chews it with a slightly smug look on his face. "Mom, that's not gonna happen. The teachers give us a syllabus the first day of class that says exactly when every project and test is due. I have one test that week, and it's gonna be cake."

I sigh and feel my eyes start to water from the onion. "Alright, Ryan. As long as you're sure you can handle it."

Ryan immediately gets up from his chair and rushes over to me, and envelopes me in a hug. "Mom, I'm sorry," he thinks I'm upset over this. "I didn't mean to upset you about it. I just don't like starting on things way ahead of time. I do better when I have a really close deadline."

I start cracking up at how concerned he is that he hurt my feelings, when really my eyes are just watering from the onion.

"Cut this for me," I say cruelly. Rather than just telling him he hasn't upset me I choose to torture my son with cutting an onion. Some mother I am!

"Unh-uh," he says to me laughing. "I'm not cutting those things. I don't wanna cry like... Oh. You.. you're not nice, lady."

"You caught me," I tell him. "Hon, I'm not gonna cry over you doing your homework. I may rather you get it done early but I trust you."

"Good," he tells me. "Because I'm probably not going to start until next week."

"You could start doing the reading for it," I suggest. Ryan and I don't argue like most teens and parents do. He's never had the relationship with either of us that Lindsey and Catherine have. But that isn't to say that we don't ever disagree. "Or maybe make a list of supplies you're going to need? Something?"

"I've got it under control Mom," he tells me as though he's ending the subject. A lot of mothers would be frustrated by their son ignoring their telling him to do his homework but I know he's got it under control. "You want me to get the eggs and the breadcrumbs for the meatballs?"

"Yeah, and could you grab that eggplant out of the fridge?" I drop the onions I've just cut up into the bowl with the hamburger. "I'm gonna make some veggie balls for my plate."

Ryan heads to the fridge to get my ingredients as the phone rings. I'm closest, so I quickly wipe my hands on a dishtowel and pick up the house phone.

"Hello?" I balance the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I head back to the counter.

"Sara?" I instantly recognize the voice as belonging to Lindsey Willows.

"Lindsey!" I exclaim, and instantly decide to put the dinner making aside for a few minutes so I can talk to her. I talk to Catherine quite a bit over the phone, but rarely her daughter. It's nice to hear about what your friends' kids are up to. "How are you?"

"I'm great, Sara," she tells me, sounding as perky as ever. "I just got home from school."

"I see. How's school going for you?"

I can feel Ryan's eyes on me, listening in on our conversation. I'm pretty sure Lindsey called to talk to him, since we don't really chat over the phone, but I'd like a little time to talk to her also.

"Uhh...it's school," she replies. "It's a pain in the ass, but I'm doing pretty well I guess."

"That's great Lindsey. And how's your mom doing? I haven't talked to her since last weekend."

"Oh, she's doing great too. She and Warrick went out for their two-month anniversary last night. You'd think she was a teenager," she comments with a bit of a giggle. Has it really been two months since they've been 'official'? It doesn't seem like I've been away for that long.

"Gosh, I can't believe it's been two months," I tell her.

"Uh, yeah," Lindsey tells me a bit awkwardly. I hear a shift in the tone of her voice. Almost as though she's decided to be happy to catch up with me a bit. "So how's Cali treating you?"

"Oh it's great," I tell her excitedly. "It's really great. I mean, I miss home too. I miss you and your mom and Nick and Greg."

Mercifully she doesn't comment on the fact that I referred to Vegas as home. I'm drawn to both cities and feel roots trying to keep me in both places. "And Uncle Gil?"

"Yeah," I nod even though I know Lindsey can't see me. Part of me hates that she's growing up so much, but Lindsey's always seen things the way they were and put it all out there. I remember her being about seven and telling me matter-of-factly that her mom and I weren't going to be friends if we didn't try, even if we worked together every day. "I miss him a little too. But a part of me also doesn't miss him yet. I'm not ready to be his friend again."

"No, I kinda see him as the..." she pauses for a minute. I forget that she's still just a child and I feel kinda badly for putting her into such a weird place talking about Grissom. He's been the closest thing to an uncle she's ever had. "Uh... well... I guess I figure he's really bad at the whole boyfriend thing and I could see him being pushy and needy."

"I guess so," I say... not really feeling comfortable talking about this with Lindsey anymore, more for her sake than my own. "You and that guy Chad, you're still broken up right?"

"Oh, well... yeah," she tells me without showing much interest in the subject of Chad. "He was a total jerk. I was actually dating a guy named Paul for a little while since you left but we broke up."

"Why?" I ask, but I'm not feeling too badly for her because she's not sounding as disappointed as I've seen Lindsey over guys before.

"Oh, well..." she starts to laugh. "He's a good friend, but he was never interested in actually dating me. It was mostly to make his ex jealous."

I let out a sympathetic sound. Kids can be so cruel to each other. "I'm sorry, Lindsey. That must've hurt."

"Not really," Lindsey says, sounding a little bit defeated. "I'm not really looking right now. I was just trying to help him out."

I grin at her youthful dramatics. I can feel Ryan's eyes on me, wondering why I'm taking so long talking to Lindsey. He pops another piece of apple in his mouth as he observes. "You'll have to tell me more about him, but I've gotta get dinner started. You wanna talk to Ryan a bit?"

"Yes, please," she tells me.

"Okay, hold on," I tell her as I get a better grasp on the phone to pass it over. "I'll talk to you again."

"Yea. Bye, Sara!"

I grin at my son as I pass him the cordless phone. As far as I know, he hasn't heard from Lindsey since we all left Vegas, so I'm not sure exactly what they'll talk about. Kids usually have a way of figuring something out. I'm a little surprised when Ryan jumps right into conversation, as if they'd spoken just a few hours earlier and were just catching up.

"Hey!" He greets her, his voice upbeat as he wanders into the living room for a little privacy. "How'd your speech go?"

I always give my son privacy, but for some reason I'm really curious about what he and Lindsey are talking about. As a mother of a really good kid, there's no reason for me to be eavesdropping but I can't help it. They continue their conversation, and though I can only hear Ryan's side, it sounds like they're old friends.

I wonder how frequently they talk and make a mental note to ask him about it when he's off the phone. It's not that I feel like I have to know, it's just that I like to be involved. I shrug it off for now and stop eavesdropping and go back to prepping the meal. Before much longer Caesar hops up onto the counter and purrs at me and I swiftly scoop him up and drop him onto the floor.

He mews at me disapprovingly and I glare down at him, feeling a little foolish admittedly, "Oh give it up, you know you're not allowed on the counter."

The whole house is eerily quiet for a while and I manage to finish up the rest of the prep work for the meal. I've got the right ingredients in the right form in the oven or stove, respectively, and I decided to settle in behind the bar with my computer. I surf the net a bit, looking for something to entertain myself with. I've already checked my email and updated my blog for the day but sometimes I like to check other sites out. After a couple of minutes of tooling around the web I remember that Ryan had wanted to go see a film, so I go on IMDB and look it up. I don't see anything totally horrifying about it and it looks pleasant enough so I decide that if Ryan makes a plan for his project I'll offer to give him a ride into town for the film.

Ryan ends up talking on the phone with Lindsey for about twenty minutes. This may not be shocking to most people, but my son is not much of a chatter. With even his best buds here in California, he'll talk to them for just a few minutes, tops, to work out plans for the evening or the weekend. Talking this long is just unheard of.

I hear my son clear his throat as he walks back into the kitchen with the cordless phone. He sets it back on the charger and slips his right hand into his pocket, looking at me. I can't help but smirk a little at him, trying to bite back a laugh, because I know how different that phone conversation was compared to his other 'chats'.

"What?" He asks me, a smile creeping up at the left corner of his mouth. I focus on my computer screen for a moment to compose myself.

"Nothing," I tell him. "Everything alright with Lindsey?"

He lets out a little sigh as he realizes I'm curious about his phone conversation. Ryan walks to the refrigerator and takes out the carton of orange juice. "Yeah, it's fine. Why do you ask?"

He's not just giving up information. I don't blame him for not wanting to share every detail of his life with his mother, especially when it involves a girl. "Oh, just wondering. I hadn't heard from her in a while. Have you?"

Ryan gets out a glass from the cupboard and sets it down, not meeting my eyes. He concentrates on pouring his juice. "Yeah, Mom," he tells me. "We talk over instant messenger sometimes and do email and Facebook. It's not a big deal."

"I didn't know that you and Lindsey were friends," I comment trying not to sound as surprised as I am. "When did that happen?"

"What? It's not a big deal Mom," he hedges and starts to head towards his bedroom. When Ryan repeats himself it usually means he's not interested in talking about whatever it is anymore. "I mean we both figured that you and Catherine would like it if we got along."

"I do want you to," I tell him. "It just took me by surprise is all. She's not usually the type of person you hang out with."

"She's really not so bad," he jokes to me. "I mean for one of your friend's kids."

"You," I say, pointing a finger at him. "Are one of my friend's kids too."

"Dad doesn't count," he laughs.

"Does so," I say back playfully. "He's my friend and you're his kid. That counts."

"No," he tells me, pretending to be serious.

"And why not?" I ask him, standing and moving towards the oven to check on the meatballs and the veggie balls. "And don't just say 'because I said so.'" He grins at me and then raises his fingers to his lips, miming a zipper. "That's what I thought!" I say, laughing.

"So did you look up that movie," he asks when he notices that my computer's pulled up to IMDB.

"Yeah," I tell him. "I think it would be okay if you see it. Why don't you look up show times on my computer?"

"Yeah okay," he agrees. "What's my curfew for the night?"

"I'd say ten o'clock," I tell him. My curfews are always a little earlier than Alexander's who would probably have told him to be in by eleven. It is a school night though and I don't think he should be out so late. "Who's going?"

"Travis and Kirsten probably," he tells me. I'm not surprised. Travis and Kirsten are twins and have been his two best friends since Kindergarten. As a matter of a fact I'm not sure that Ryan really has many other friends besides them. He's never really been one for socializing like the other kids. I'm glad that he hasn't lost contact with them in the couple of months since he's been at the new school.

"Anyone else?" I quiz him, just curious if he's bringing anyone from class.

"Yeah, the school drug dealer, a promiscuous girl, and a pothead," he quips jokingly as he pulls the laptop across the bar to check the movie times, then turns to give me a huge grin. I narrow my eyes at him and grab his ear to playfully let him know I don't appreciate him joking around about that sort of thing. "Oww! Owww!" He protests halfheartedly. "Abuse!"

"Go start your homework, smart ass," I tell him, giving him a light shove towards the stairs. "It needs to be totally done before you go to the movie."

While I may be able to joke around with Ryan about a great many things, school work is never one of them, and he knows it. He knows that both Alexander and I expect him to get all his homework done every night, and if he's planning a get together with friends in the evening, it's finished before hand. With Ryan, it's never been a problem, and I like to think that's because we've given him clear expectations. Plus, he's a smart, quick, kid and has always breezed through his homework.

"I can't hear you, because my ear's been physically abused," he says as he reads over the available times.

"Ryan Peter," I make my voice my stern, though it still has a teasing tone to it, because I know he's doing the same to me.

"I know," he tells me as he heads towards the stairs, picking up his glass of orange juice on the way. "I think we'll try to hit the 7:10 showing. I'll call my friends then start on my homework."

"Alright, that sounds fine. Dinner will be ready around five." I watch my only son walk through the hallways and hear him climb the stairs, smiling to myself the whole time.

I don't have to entertain myself for long before Alexander comes home. I watch him come in and settle his things on the couch before bending down to greet Jack. It's the same routine he follows every day, coming in and petting her. Then he usually comes into the kitchen to visit with me.

According to schedule he comes in and greets me, "hey Sara." Today he pulls me into a hug and drops a kiss on my cheek. Some days he greets me this way and others he's a bit more formal. Things like kisses and hugs aren't the same between Alexander and me. Of course it's a sign of affection, but it's nothing beyond friendship in any way.

"Hey there," I greet him as I stir the sauce. "We're having pasta. Hope that's okay?"

"Yeah, I'm actually craving garlic bread," he says as he dips a finger into the sauce to taste it. I've never understood how he could do that without burning his finger. "I mean... if you're making it."

"Garlic and cheese," I point to the counter behind us and grin. "I know it's your favorite."

"Awesome," he says to me very similar to the way Ryan might. "How was your day?"

"It was pretty great," I admit to him as he settles into a seat across the bar from me. He sips from a cup of orange juice like Ryan did a few moments ago. "Jack and I took a long walk. Greg called. I spoke with Nick. And Lindsey, actually--I've had a lot of time on the phone."

Alexander nods in agreement, "Yeah, sounds like you did. How are they all doing?"

"Oh, pretty well," I say as I stir the sauce absentmindedly. It's amazing how relaxing it is to cook - especially stirring. And talking to Alexander is nice. "I think Nick's a little down lately, but I'm sure he'll bounce back."

"Why's he down?" Alexander asks curiously. "Did something happen?"

I've never been one to gossip about other people's problems, especially close friends, so I decide to keep what Nick told me mostly private. "Oh, you know, everyone just gets a little down every once in a while. Nothing big. Lindsey and Ryan talked for quite a while. Did you know they were still in touch?"

He shakes his head, and looks curious. "No. What, do they have a thing?"

I bite my lip. I don't want to be suggestive. "I don't see how they can. They're hundreds of miles away from each other. I think they're just being friendly."

"But Ryan talking on the phone with a girl?" Alexander asked, obviously surprised. "He barely talks on the phone with his guy friends."

I shrug my shoulder a little. "Girls like to chat. Oh, and Ryan's going to the 7:10 showing of that movie he wanted to see."

"Does he have much homework?"

"No. He's upstairs doing it now," I reply. Gosh, we really do sound like a real married couple, standing here talking about our kid.

"Look at us," he comments, apparently feeling the same way I was. "It's like we've been married since we were kids."

"We have," I tell him with a smile. "I mean in a way. We were young. Did you think we'd be this close after so long?"

"Honestly?" He asks me. I personally always worried that being married would ruin our friendship. "I had my doubts. I mean... especially when we had Ryan. I thought things would change."

"I did too," I admit. "But we've done pretty well I think."

"I think so too," he smiles. "At least we managed to get a healthy—albeit warped—friendship and a pretty great kid out of the whole arrangement."

Thinking of the arrangement we have and the fact that I came so close to marrying another man brings an awkward question to mind. I'm not sure how to word it so I stop talking for a few moments and study the sauce. He notices though and gently probes me to explain, "What's on your mind?"

"Well," I say struggling to figure out how to put it. "I mean... have you ever thought about what we'd do if either of us ever met someone?"

"You did meet someone," he says to me almost remorsefully.

"But that didn't work out," I tell him. "I mean have you ever thought it was time we talked about getting a divorce?"

The subject had been avoided for so many years, it felt like a punch in the stomach even for me to have it brought up. When we married, we had loved each other - just not the type of love marriage is supposed to be about. Alexander and I loved each other as friends - best friends - and always wanted to be together in some form. Though it had been years since we'd even remotely considered ourselves a 'married couple', and even more years since we'd been physically intimate, we'd never bothered with the mess of a divorce. Neither of us were ever serious about anyone, up until Gil, but had agreed if we ever wanted to remarry, we'd go through divorce proceedings. But now that I've gone through so much with Gil, and had it turn out so badly, I just want to be completely free. I'm not sure why, but I just have this unshakable feeling that I shouldn't just stay married because it's easier. After this whole mess, I just want to reclaim my life.

It's obviously still sore for Alexander also. He bows his head and lets out a somewhat tired sigh. "I've thought about it," he admits as he meets my eyes once again. "Especially when you and Gil started getting serious. But I didn't wanna be the one to bring it up."

I smile in understanding. We both care about each other and love each other like crazy, which is why this whole divorce thing is so hard. Isn't divorce supposed to happen amidst feelings of hate, betrayal, and revenge? Don't people get divorced because they just can't stand the sight and company of the other person? None of this fits our relationship at all, which makes getting a divorce just feel...wrong.

"I hate thinking about it too," I scrub my fingers over my eyebrow. "But...I mean, what if you were to meet someone tomorrow, and you're absolutely crazy about her. Wouldn't it be totally awkward to have to explain that actually, you're still married technically, but not really?"

He laughs out loud at the ridiculousness of it. "Well, it hasn't happened yet. I always figured if someone came along, we'd go ahead with it. Gil didn't seem to mind."

I shrugged and nodded in acknowledgment. "Yeah. I wonder, though, why I never brought it up with you when Gil and I were serious. Maybe it's because..." I stop, not wanting to say it.

"Because what?" He asks gently.

I meet his eyes again. "I just knew it wasn't for real."

He gives me that I know you better than you know yourself look and takes another sip out of his glass. I debate asking him what he means by the look but I opt not to. He notices the look on my face—because after all he knows me better than myself. "What?" he asks and takes another sip. "What's with the look?"

"You gave me a look!" I say, frustrated. "What were you trying to imply by looking at me like that?"

"Nothing," he says and gives me a sideways grin. It's the same expression Ryan always makes when he wants to make me work to get something out of him. "Can't I look at you once in a while?"

"No," I pout. I remember when we were young and my pouting could convince him to do anything. He's always had a weakness for a sad look on my face. "C'mon just tell me."

"It's just that the last few days before you came back out here," he sighs. "I could tell Grissom wasn't the one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I try to sound as calm and unagitated as possible. "I mean if you knew Gil and I weren't gonna make it I kinda wish you'd let me in on it."

He laughs awkwardly for a moment, "It's not exactly like that Sara, it's just that I always thought you could do better. I mean... that you'd find someone who really loves you." The laugh he gives me this time is a bit more awkward. "Well, you know.... like as much as I think you deserve."

I childishly engulf him in a hug and I feel his arms wrap around my body, squeezing me in the first real hug I've had since my accident. While I squeeze back I hear Ryan and Jack wandering down the stairs. "Is Dad home yet?"

"Yeah, he's right here," I call up to him. I let my hand rest on Alexander's chest and look at him lovingly - not that "in love" type of look, obviously - but I'm so glad I have him in my life after all these years. Alexander grins and presses a kiss to my cheek. In this house, I feel so loved.

Ryan appears moments later with Jack not far behind. I realize I haven't seen Caesar in a while, and hope he's not up to anything, like pooping in the plants (which I unfortunately caught him doing the other day). "What the hell?" He asks, gesturing to us. While Ryan knows his father and I love each other, we're definitely not big on PDA.

He sets his finished cup of orange juice on the counter, and I reach out to slap him lightly on the arm for using the h-word. "Clean up the language, DUDE," I tell him, but can't hold back a grin. Ryan chuckles just slightly and shakes his head at us.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a happily married couple," he points out. I theatrically pull Alexander a little closer to me, squishing the sides of our faces together, and I put on a cheesy grin as I take his chin between my fingers like a grandmother would do to a long lost grandchild.

"You guys - " Ryan grins sheepishly and waves his hand at us in dismissal. "Forget it. Dad, can I have some money for the movie tonight?"

I let myself sink away from my husband and stand up straight to go check on the sauce. Alexander stands up to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. "Homework?"

"Finished," he declares, holding out his hand.

"Who's going?" Alexander is really the model parent, always asking important questions like this.

"I already told Mom," he says, his voice slightly impatient. "Travis and Kirsten."

Alexander nods in approval and hands our son a twenty dollar bill.

I tell Ryan to set the table and instruct Alexander to get all of the food in dishes and ready to be served as I set off into the house—five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a bit bigger than we need—in search of Caesar. It takes me a little while to locate him. I finally find him in the third floor bedroom which is my favorite in the house. It's tiny though and impractical for anyone over the age of about ten. When Alexander and I first looked into buying this home I'd planned on giving it to Ryan but we both wanted him in a room closer to ours.

"You're not supposed to be in the guest rooms," I warn Caesar as I scoop him up gently and cuddle him on the way back out of the room. I can't help but notice the tiny blue knitted blanket that's stored away up here. It was my first and only knitting project. I was never good at that particular hobby. Caesar mews happily as I stroke the blanket gently one time and wander my way back down the stairs. I drop him gently on the floor on my way past my seat at the table, chuckling as I hear his purr from three feet away.

"Mom," Ryan calls as I'm about to take my seat. "Can you grab the Ranch for me?"

My son the Ranch addict. He doesn't just put it on his salad, which he's always been great about eating, but also on anything else on his plate. Alexander has a habit of being the same way, drowning everything in the white creamy dressing. I, personally, hate the stuff. I rustle Ryan's hair and settle into my seat beside Alexander. A few bites into our silent meal we're interrupted by Jack's playful bark; she's demanding a meatball.

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